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“ Supposin’ Heaven was Sitooated on the Hub of that Wheel ” 





HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 


OR, THE 

‘SHOEMAKER BY THE GRACE OF GOD 


GEORGE H.'^EPWORTH 

AUTHOR OF “ THE LIFE BEYOND,” " BROWN STUDIES,” ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
D. C. HUTCHISON 


ft 


NEW YORK 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 

31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 



Copyright, 1893 and 1910 
By E. P. Dutton & Company 


©CI,A 271 ti 53 


CONTENTS 


I. 

PAGE 

Shoes and Sermons 5 

II . 

The Spokes and the Hub of the Wheel 38 

HI. 

‘‘ Fearin’ and Tremblin’ ” 72 

IV. 

Few Duties, many Privileges .... 97 

V. 

Is It a Vale of Tears? 122 

VI. 

‘‘A Little Man Savin’ Souls” . . .153 

VII. 

From Earth to Heaven 173 



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ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Supposin’ Heaven was Sitooated on the 
Hub of that Wheel ” . . . . Frontispiece 

‘‘Wall/’ said Hiram, “You’re Welcome. 
Nobody never Intrudes Here” . . . i8 

“ I shall still be only a Little Chiny Cup to 
Hold a Whole Ocean of Heaven ” . .94 

At the Second Verse even Cynthia Caught 
the Glorious Infection 152 



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[HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION j 


SHOES AND SERMONS 

The Cheroquee flows hard by the 
little village of Woodbine. It is a. 
sluggish, shallow stream, which takes' 
life easily, if not lazily, shelters a few' 
varieties of fish, furnishes to adven- 
turous boys as many pink and white, 
lilies as they can carry home, and' 
after meandering through a dozen' 
dales, and cranberry meadows drops^ 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


into the welcoming arms of the Atlan- 
tic, fifty miles away. 

It always reminds me of Pope’s 
lines : 

“Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, 
And the smoother stream in smoother numbers 
flows/^ 

It is pellucid, alluring, full of mur- 
muring music, and runs dimpling all 
the way, kissing its banks with con- 
; tinuous good-nature. 

Of a summer afternoon it serves as 
a mirror for the fleecy clouds that lin- 
ger overhead, more than half con- 
scious of the admiration they excite; 
and there is an indefinable charm in 
its rippling current as it curls up 
6 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


against the piers of the rickety old ; 
wooden bridge, whose boards are so ^ 
loose that they rattle when the far- 
mer’s wagon rumbles over them, and 
the farmer’s horse picks his way on 
the road to market. At the setting 
of the sun the reflection of the over- 
hanging trees on the farther bank and 
of the arched sky which is above us 
all is something marvelous to behold. 
There is nothing left of beauty to de- j 
sire. One looks into its depths, and 
sees such a picture as artists dream of 
but never paint. Many a time I have 
wandered along its green banks and 
gazed at two worlds, one above and 
the other below, until the deepening 
7 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


J shadows drove me home, full of pleas- i 
^ ant thoughts. 

The village of Woodbine consists 
^ mainly of a single street, stretching a 
mile from north to south, on either side 
of which are the stores, the churches, 
and the cottages of a majority of the 
people. Back of this, and nearer the 
river, are the houses of a score or two 
of families, who earn a precarious liv- 
[ ing as best they can. There is the 
carpenter, and the blacksmith, and 
the painter, and the tinman, and just 
at the corner where two roads meet, 
the little domicile of Hiram Golf, the 
shoemaker. 

At the farther end of the village 

8 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


are the woolen mills of Phil & Kuhn, 
who employ about six hundred peo- 
ple. This mill is the mainstay of the 
villagers. When the demand for such 
goods is brisk, there is plenty of work, 
and general prosperity and hilarity. 
When the demand is light and the 
mills run on only half time, it is hard 
to make both ends meet. 

To the pastorate of one of the vil- 
lage churches my friend John Jessig 
was called some years since. He had 
a larger opportunity, but chose that 
one. A young man, well equipped 
for the Master’s service, filled with 
that divine earnestness which love of 
humanity always inspires but which 



9 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

greed of fame never gives, he wel- 
comed the invitation to a narrow field 
of labor. ‘1 want to learn how the 
great heart of man beats,” he said; 
‘and they can tell me the secret in 
Woodbine as well as elsewhere. I 
must get into touch with the laboring 
class, which, after all, is the thinking 
class in this country; and if I preach 
by the side of a mill wheel I shall find 
out what real men and women need.” 

The Reverend Robert Flood, his 
predecessor, gave him the only thing 
he had to give — advice. The kindly 
old gentleman had been retired on ac- 
count of advancing age, after forty 


10 


SHOES AND SERMONS 

years of patient and spiritually pros- 
perous toil. It is a young man’s 
world though, and when one has 
watched the frosts of sixty winters he 
must step aside with such grace as he 
can summon. So the parish made 
Robert Flood pastor emeritus, with- 
out a salary, or rather with such slen- 
der and uncertain income as an occa- 
sional donation party affords. When 
crippled by long service there is hard- 
ly a green spot on the earth for a 
white-haired minister, unless he finds 
it in the cemetery. He is admired 
until he says ''Amen” in his farewell 
sermon, and after that comes neglect. 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



If he can go to heaven at once, all is 
well; if he insists on living, his last 
days are full of sorrow and pain. 

“It sometimes happens,'’ said Mr. 
Flood to John, “that a minister’s 
brain runs fallow as the ground does. 
When the farmer raises the same crop 
year after year, he must needs give his 
fields a rest, or stimulate them with a 
fertilizer. You will preach yourself 
out unless you read new books — and 
your salary will limit you in that 
direction — or study the wants of the 
people by personal contact with their 
temptations and struggles. If you 
are ever at a loss for a Sunday topic> 
the shoemaker will give you one. He 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


thinks with one lobe of his brain while 
he makes shoes with the other. He 
has been my tonic for a long while, 
and will serve you a good turn when 
you are in straits.” 

I hardly know how to describe 
Hiram Golf. He was in many re- 
spects a remarkable man, one worth 
looking at a second time. He was a 
philosopher without knowing it. To 
think his way down into the depths 
of a problem was his pleasure, and 
though his thoughts did not run in the 
usual channels, they were always sug- 
gestive. He was about fifty-eight 
years of age, had gray hair, deep-set 
blue eyes, a complexion that had 

13 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



never been tarnished by vicious hab- 
its, and a voice so rich and mellow 
that it seemed like a strain of music. 

On the library shelf in his little 
shop was a worn ‘Taradise Lost,” a 
treatise on astronomy, several reports 
of labor organizations, a worm-eaten 
copy of 'Tilgrim’s Progress,” and a 
Bible which had been read so much 
that it could hardly hold itself to- 
J gether. 

The Bible is to many people an 
ornament for the center table. Used 
in this way, it ought to be expensively 
bound and kept free from the marring 
stains of daily use. To others, it is a 
religious luxury, a very important 

H 


SHOES AND SERMONS 

book to have within reach in case of 
emergency, because it vouches for the 
spiritual respectability and the ortho- 
doxy of the owner. To still others, 
and Hiram is to be included in this 
list, it is one of the necessaries of life, 
a joy, a comfort, a consolation. 
Among such people the book is sel- 
dom found in good condition, from 
the binder’s point of view. It is dog- 
eared, thumb-marked, and many of | 
its verses are so dimmed by constant 
use that they are read with diffi- 
culty. A family with a dog-eared 
Bible make earnest church-members. 
God’s blessing rests on the book when 
it is thumb-marked; and if its sacred 

15 




HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

passages are blotted with tears, all the 
richer the blessing. Bibles with the 
gilding perfect are an accusation. 
They represent the secrets of God 
under lock and key, where no eye can 
see them and no heart get at them. 

Hiram was an optimist in spite of 
the rheumatism. The twinges of 
that unpopular malady forced him to 
make a grimace now and then, but he 
was wont to say when the pain sub- 
sided — and he always said it in such 
cheerful tones that you were re- 
minded of the sun peering through 
the clouds on an April day — “There 
will be no east wind up there ! This 
old body is a sort of tumbledown con- 
16 




SHOES AND SERMONS 

cern, but I shall move into a new one 
by and by. To be young again, with- 
out no ache or pain! That’s worth 
looking forward to, don’t ye think?” 
and he turned his eyes to the window 
as though hoping to get a glimpse of 
the glistening minarets of the Beau- 
tiful City beyond the hills. 

When John Jessig made his first 
excursion through the parish he 
knocked at the shoemaker’s door, i 
He had heard such kindly things of 
him from the neighbors that he was 
curious to make his acquaintance. 

‘'Come in!” cried Hiram. 

“I beg your pardon, and hope I am 
not intruding.” 

17 


i 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


‘"Wall,” said Hiram, as he caught 
. sight of John’s genial face, ‘‘you’re 
'welcome. Nobody never intrudes 
here. Take a cheer, parson, take a 
cheer. I’m right glad to see ye. 
Here, Marthy, bring in that rocking- 
cheer from the parlor. Nothin’s too 
good for the minister, if he’s the right 
sort, and you look as though you 
might be one of that kind, parson. 

; “Marthy, this is the new minister. 
Parson, this is my wife. You’ll want 
to know her, for she’s worth knowin’. 
Now then, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll 
keep right on with my work, fur I’m 
ruther pressed to-day. You won’t 
mind that, will you?” 

i8 



“ Wall,” Said Hiram, “You’re Welcome, Nobody never Intrudes Here” 


i .■ 

I ■ -S' 




4 .' 



SHOES AND SERMONS 

‘‘On the contrary,” replied John, 
fitting himself into his surroundings 
with admirable tact. 

“That’s what I thought,” re- 
sponded Hiram, as he drove a peg 
home, “or I wouldn’t have said it. 
So you’ve come to Woodbine to cast 
your lot in with us folks.” 

“It looks like a promising field, 
Mr. Golf.” 

“Yes, for a right smart worker it 
is. Pretty rocky ground, some of it, 
but all the more credit if you manage 
to get a crop. It’s up by daylight 
and in bed by candle-light in Wood- 
bine, but I guess it’s about as nigh to 
heaven from the Cheroquee Valley as 

19 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

from any other p’int, if ye reckon 
straight.” 

'Tm glad to be with the laboring 
class,” said John, hoping thereby to 
draw out the shoemaker. 

''Hm! I hain’t no respect for any 
class that ain’t a laborin’ class,” was 
the reply. ''The Lord said, 'My 
Father worketh hitherto, and I work.’ 
I rather imagine that if God kin work 
we needn’t be ashamed to follow the 
example. They say that every man 
thinks of God from his own stand- 
p’int, so I naterally picter Him as al- 
ways busy. The world don’t accept 
that idee, but it’s a great comfort to 
me. The man who don’t do nothin’ 



20 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


ain’t wuth nothin’. The kings of the 
earth have got us on the wrong road. 
To do nothin’ is what they think 
makes ’em different from the common 
run of folks. And so it does; it 
makes ’em worse. Then they collect 
’round ’em a multitude of other men 
I and women who take pride in doin’ 
I, nothin’, and we’ve managed to get 
I things so askew that we call them the 
nobility. It’s noble to be lazy, is the 
gospel of this world. Ain’t that 
queer, parson?” 

John nodded, unwilling to enter on 
a controversy. 

‘It seems to me,” continued Hiram, 
“that common sense is standin’ on its 



21 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION ' 

head instead of its feet. The only 
noble man that I know anythin’ about 
is the honest laborin’ man. Work is 
the law of natur, and the secret of 
human happiness. Why, we’ve got 
to such a pass, even in this country, 
that everybody is workin’ hard in the 
hope of gettin’ so much money laid up 
that they needn’t do nothin’ by and 
by. But somehow, before that time 
comes most of ’em die. That’s what 
I call a Providence, for it saves ’em 
from an awful disapp’intment. 
They wouldn’t have half as much 
pleasure in spendin’ their fortune as 
they got out of makin’ it.” 

“I’m afraid you will not find many 



22 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


people to agree with you, Mr. Golf.” 

“That don’t make no difference. 
The truth is the truth, whether it is 
believed or not. It don’t hurt 'the 
truth not to be believed, but it hurts 
you and me if we don’t believe it. If 
there was less money in the world and 
more stiddy work, we should be better 
off. An idle class don’t push, and 
they don’t shove. They jest stand by 
and let other people do the pushin’ 
and the shovin’, and then they want 
their share of the benefit. 

“Two things ought to be done right 
away. There’s a whole lot of people 
up above us who live in sinful pleas- 
ure because they’ve got so much 



23 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


money. If you could reach up” — 
Hiram suited the action to the word, 
stretching his hands toward the ceil- 
ing — ‘'if you could catch them by the 
trouser-legs and pull ’em down to 
where they’d have to earn their livin’ 
you’d certain save their bodies by 
makin’ ’em healthy, and at the same 
time you might save their souls by 
givin’ ’em somethin’ to think of be- 
sides themselves. 

“Then there’s another whole lot of 
people, who have dropped ’most out of 
sight because they’ve had hard luck. 
They are willin’ to take a job, but 
can’t find one. Down they go, far- 
ther and farther, and take to vicious 



24 


SHOES AND SERMONS 



ways because nobody helps ’em. If 
we could stoop over and grab ’em by 
the coat collar, and lift ’em up to reg- 
ular employment, we’d wake up their 
ambition and make men of ’em. 
There’s reforms enough, parson, right 
in sight; and if you’re willin’ to sacri- 
fice your pulpit dignity and roll up 
your sleeves you’ll be busy most of the 
time. The world is worth savin’. 
Leastwise, the Lord thought so.” 

John’s eyes glistened. Here was 
the man he had longed to see — an un- 
conventional creature, with no respect 
for persons, but a boundless love for 
his kind. He felt, while Hiram was 
talking as though some one had 

25 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

lighted the kindling-wood in his heart 
of hearts and the genial warmth were 
stealing to every fiber of his being. 
But he chose to keep still and let the 
shoemaker do the talking. 

‘‘Now see what the Bible says. It 
begins with the work of creation and 
ends with the work of salvation. 
Does any one take his ease in the Bi- 
ble? If he does, he don’t enjoy him- 
self. God worked durin’ six days, 
and made the world, and it is inti- 
mated that he even got tired, for He 
‘rested on the seventh day.’ 

“And when Christ came. He wasn’t 
born in no palace, but in a stable. He 
worked in Nazareth at a carpenter’s 
26 




SHOES AND SERMONS 


bench, and when He left that for His 
ministry He traveled on foot for 
weary miles, and must have been 
worn out when night fell. O parson, 
God’s world is a work-a-day world, 
and there ain’t no honor in idleness. 
Idleness is nothin’ but a serpent’s egg, 
and only a serpent can come out of 
it.” 

During this same conversation 
John said, “Now, Mr. Golf — ” 

“Call me Hiram, if you please, par- 
son. That’s what they all call me, 
and I’d scarcely know myself by any 
other name. But what was you 



sayin’ 

“Simply this,” answered John, 
27 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


‘‘that I am glad to see a man who can ; 
use the humblest vocation for the^ 
glory of God, as you are doing.” 

Hiram laid his shoe down, and pro- ^ 
ceeded to take off his leather apron. 
Then he crossed his legs, clenched his 
hands around one knee, and looked at 
John full in the face. Evidently the 
minister had touched him on a tender 
spot. He was in no degree excited, 
Dut was possessed of the earnestness 
which sometimes makes us fanatical. 

“There ain’t no sech thing in this 
universe, parson,” he responded with 
grave dignity, “there ain’t no sech 
thing in this wide world as a humble 


28 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


vocation. You are on the wrong 
track, even if you are our preacher, 
and what you say isn’t orthodox.” 

“Excuse me,” quickly replied John, 
“if I have wounded you by my hasty 
expression; but what I meant to say 
was — ” 

“No, no, parson, don’t run away 
with the idee that you’ve got to talk 
so’s not to wound me or any one else. 
’Tain’t that at all. What I want is 
for you to guard against woundin’ 
the Lord. That’s a more important 
matter.” 



“Yes?” said John, considerably 
embarrassed. 


29 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

‘'Now, you are a minister of the 
Gospel by the grace of God. Ain’t 
that so?” 

“I hope it is true, Hiram.” 

“You don’t hope, parson, you 
know, or you’ll have to begin all over 
again. Well, I am a shoemaker by 
the grace of God. If I make good 
shoes I shall get just as much credit in 
the hereafter as you will for bein’ a 
faithful pastor. All work is noble 
and honorable, and it’ll take a good 
deal of argyment to show me that all 
work isn’t about equally important. 
You’ll carry up to the Jedgment-seat 
a fair sample of the sermons you have 
preached, and I’ll carry up a fair sam- 



30 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


pie of the shoes I’ve been makin’. 
Your sermons will settle your future, 
and my shoes will settle mine. We 
shall fall or rise accordin’ as the sam- 
ple represents good or bad work. 
You don’t s’pose, do you, that the 
Lord’s a-goin’ to look at your sermon 
and say, 'John Jessig, take your seat 
’way up there in front,’ then look at 
my shoes and say, 'Hiram, you’re 
mighty lucky to get in here at all ; go 
and take a seat ’way down at the end 
there’? Oh no, parson. That’s the 
difference between the Lord and us 
folks. If your sermon is good, and 
my shoes is good. He’ll say, 'John 
and Hiram, you’ve used your talent 



31 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

about equally well. Go up there and 
sit in the front bench side by side, and 
jine in the general Hallelujah.’ ” 
''Then you don’t think there’ll be 
any discrimination as to the class of 
work done?” suggested John. 

"Only the discrimination between 
good work and bad work, not between 
brain work and hand work. I don’t 
ylV believe there’ll be no aristocracy in 
j ; 1 1 ; heaven; not a bit of it. All the wings 
"w will be made after the same pattern. 

I Goodness is goodness, parson, whether 
you find it in the mill-owner or a spin- 
dle-tender. The Spirit of the Lord 
is jest as much with me as I sit here 
peggin’ away on Widow Brown’s 




32 




SHOES AND SERMONS 

number fives, that are split at the; 
sides, as it is with you when you are - 
tryin’ to write somethin’ that’ll con-* 
vert sinners and cheer the godly next ' 
Sunday mornin’. Everythin’ de- 
pends on the way we do our work; 
and as for that, it’s jest as necessary 
for the people to have good shoes as 
good preachers. They can’t get 
along without either. Men may look 
down on a house-painter, or a carpen- j ; 
ter, but I reckon the angels don’t do 
that sort of thing.” 

'That is all very interesting, 
Hiram, possibly a little startling and 
novel, but quite worthy of considera- 
tion.” 


33 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


‘‘Jest look at that, parson,” and 
Hiram took from a pile on the floor 
the battered shoe of a child; “that be- 
longs to William Runkle’s youngest, 
a little feller of six, and not over 
hardy. That boy’s body ought to be 
kept healthy, oughtn’t it^ Wall, 
I’m goin’ to do my part. If he should 
catch cold some muddy day, and get 
the pneumonia, his father, who only 
earns twelve dollars a week, would 
have a heavy doctor’s bill to pay, and 
even then he might lose the child. 
That would almost break his heart, I 
do believe. Now then, I propose to 
mend them shoes as though my salva- 
tion depended on it. I can’t afford, 


34 



SHOES AND SERMONS 


as a child of God with a hope of 
heaven, to put poor work into that 
job. Too much depends on it. Yes, 
parson,” and Hiram looked at the 
shoe with something like tenderness, 
‘'too much depends on it. I wouldn’t 
like to meet that boy up yonder and 
have him tell me he died because 
I wasn’t a faithful shoemaker. I 
couldn’t stand that nohow. Do you 
think a vocation is a humble one when 
it deals with the health and lives of 
our fellow-creatures? I reckon not.” 

John Jessig regarded Hiram with 
mingled surprise and admiration. 
He was discovering some secrets, was 
getting a view of real life, was look- 



35 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



ing at it from the standpoint of a 
workingman. 

On his way home he had a good 
deal to think about. "'All honest 
work is important,” he said to him- 
self. "All work is important, and all 
work should be honest. Every man 
should be consecrated to his business, 
no matter what it is. The carpenter 
should ply his plane with his heart as 
well as with his hands. The black- 
smith should drive nails into the 
horse’s hoofs with his prayers as well 
as with his hammer, and do it not for 
pay only, but for God. We are all, 
every one of us, priests of the Tem- 
ple. Some wear robes, and some are 

36 




SHOES AND SERMONS 


in shirt-sleeves; some work with pen 
and ink, and others with forges and 
scythes and tailor’s needles; but we 
are all priests, just the same. Toil 
is honorable in itself, and ennobling 
in its influence.” 

There was material for a sermon, 
one that would touch the inner 
springs and motives of the spiritual 
life, would impress upon men a larger 
sense of personal importance in the 
world, lift them above the mere 
drudgery of their tasks, and fill them 
with inspiring and cheering inpulses. 

John Jessig had caught hold of a 
clue, and he determined to follow it 
to the end. 


37 


ioO<ii 


Late one afternoon, Hiram, John 
Jessig, and Deacon Jonathan Tubbs, 
.were sitting together on the stoop of 
the shoemaker s house. The sun was 
'just dropping behind the hills beyond 
the river, and the great banks of 
, clouds above their well- wooded sum-, 
mits seemed all aflame. The van- 
guard of approaching darkness wan- 
Ldered lazily over the landscape, as 



A 




SPOKES AND HUB 

though some one with a whole armful 
of shadows had thrown down a single 
handful, which the gentle wind was 
scattering in every nook and corner. 
The cows were lowing in the distant 
fields as though their owners had neg- 
lected to call them to the barn, and 
the hens were sauntering up and 
down waiting for the roosting hour. 
Nature was in her balmiest mood, and 
the dark blue sky seemed like a beck- 
oning hand. 

Hiram had finished his day’s work, 
had enjoyed his supper, and was glad 
to see his friends. His crutch — for 
one of his legs was badly twisted — 
lay by his side. The weather was 



39 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

warm, and he sat in his shirt-sleeves. 

''Well, parson,” he began, "what 
you been doin’ to-day? Is your ser- 
mon ready for Sunday, and what is 
it about?” 

Deacon Tubbs hitched uneasily for 
he had a profound reverence for the 
cloth, and was almost offended at 
Hiram’s familiarity. 

"Thank you for asking the ques- 
tions,” answered John. "There is a 
large variety of topics on the carpet 
just now, but I received by mail yes- 
terday a very encouraging report of 
the progress made by our denomina- 
tion, and I thought of talking about 
that.” 



40 


SPOKES AND HUB 


9 


‘'A little praisin’ of ourselves, eh, 
parson?” and Hiram looked at John 
quizzically. 

''No, I think not, Hiram, but we 
have made such great advances of late 
that it seemed worth a mention.” 

"So it is parson, so it is. When the 
kingdom spreads, tell the people all 
about it.” 

"It’s encouragin’ to know that 
we’re keepin’ up our eend, and per- 
haps a leetle more,” suggested the 
deacon. "’Twon’t do to let other 
folks get ahead of us. It makes us 
proud of our church, and tells might- 
ily on the contribution-box.” 

"That is well enough as fur as it 

41 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


goes/’ remarked Hiram, ‘‘but in my| 
jedgment it don’t go fur enough. . 
We ain’t to forgit that the purpose of [ 
all good men and women is to make ^ 
Christians, and not to make this or^ 
that kind of Christians.” 

“I don’t agree,” broke in the dea- 
con, “not by a good deal. We are 


“Stop a minute, Jon’ than, and let 
me say my say out. Addin’ members 
to our church, well, it’s one thing, and 
it ain’t no more; addin’ members to 
Christ is a much bigger thing. And 
I’ll tell you why I think so. It’s jest 
this way: when we get to heaven we 
shan’t belong the ’Piscopal or the 
42 




SPOKES AND HUB 

Methodis’ church, we shall simply oe- 
long to Christ’s church. So we 
shouldn’t waste no time in specially 
makin’ ’Piscopals or Methodis’. We 
jine a denomination accordin’ to tem- 
perament, or early education, or pos- 
sibly prejudice, but it is nothin’ more 
than a matter of convenience. What 
we are after is not the denomination, 
but the Christ who is in it. If you 
shake the denomination off of a man 
and leave the Christ, he don’t lose 
much; but if you shake off the Christ 
and leave the denomination, you take 
about all he has.” 

The deacon shook his head omi- 
nously, but Hiram refused to be inter- 



43 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


rupted. ‘‘Now, ’way down in the 
bottom of my heart, I belong to every 
denomination on the footstool, be- 
cause I find somethin’ in each one of 
’em that helps me. I never went into 
a church in my life where I couldn’t 
sing ‘Glory to God!’ with the rest of 
’em. They’re all alike to me, parson, 
if the Central Figure is there.” 

Just then Tom Mag went by roll- 
^ ing a carriage wheel. 

“Accident?” sang out the deacon. 

“Yes, a little one,” was the reply; 
“but no harm done. Farmer Bright 
had too big a load on the hind seat, 
and three girls and a boy was spilled 
in the dirt, that’s all.” 



44 



SPOKES AND HUB 


‘"Hm!” said Hiram eagerly, ‘'that’s 
, jest what I want for what I’m sayin’. 
See that wheel, parson?” 

The minister nodded. 

“There ain’t none of us blind,” 
sneered the deacon, who did not enjoy 
the shoemaker’s radicalism. 

“Wall, supposin’ that heaven was 
sitooated on the hub of that wheel, 
and all the people of the earth was 
‘ livin’ in different spots on the tire. 
Them people want to get to heaven, 
that is, to the hub; and after doin’ a 
deal of explorin’ they find the spokes 
which seem to lead in that direction. 
‘Hullo!’ they say, ‘there ’pears to be 
a good many ways provided.’ If 



45 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


[good Deacon Tubbs had been there, 
► he would have argyed that there could 
[ only be one way, and that all the other 
^spokes was a delusion and a snare. 
But that wouldn’t be sound reasonin’,, 
parson. The Lord couldn’t be as 
mean and narrer as we are if He tried. 
So there is lots of spokes, and they are 
all provided by Him. 

‘'Now then, jest watch the people. 
; Some of ’em trudge along one spoke,, 
maybe a yaller one, and some trudge 
along another spoke, maybe a red one. 
The farther away they are from 
heaven — that is, the hub — the farther 
apart they are from each other; and 
the nearer they get to heaven — that 
46 





SPOKES AND HUB 

is, the hub — the nearer they are to 
each other. Ain’t that so, deacon?” 

‘‘Accordin’ to the wheel that’s so,” 
replied Tubbs frankly. 

“All right. The p’int I want to 
make is this: away from God, away 
from each other; nigh to God, nigh to 
each other. That’s Scripter, and it’s 
sense. 

“When people is away off from the 
hub, each one declares that his par- 
tic’lar spoke is the only one that leads 
there, and so the quarrelin’ begins, 
and the Christianity steps out. This 
man won’t speak to that man because, 
as he says, he’s travelin’ along the 
wrong spoke, and won’t never arrive 



47 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


[to the hub. But by and by, when 
.they all get to heaven, they find to 
[their surprise that one spoke was jest 
^ as good as the other, no matter 
whether it was red or yaller.” 

‘I’m not quite sure of all that, 
Hiram,” suggested the minister, at 
which the deacon pricked up his ears 
. and became an attentive listener. 

‘Where there are many ways, it is 
^safe to declare, and dangerous not to, 
that some are better than others; 
and that there must be one way 
which is better than all the rest. I 
don’t see how you can avoid that con- 
clusion.” 

“Hold up, parson,” said Hiram, as 

48 



SPOKES AND HUB 


he pounded the floor with his crutch in 
his eagerness, ‘'don’t be in too much of 
a hurry. Let’s stick to that wheel. 
If you measure ’em with your foot- 
rule, you find that one spoke ain’t no 
shorter road to the hub than any other. 
They are all alike, except in color, and 
the color is nothin’ more than a matter 
of taste. What everybody’s got to 
do, in order to get to the hub, is to 
keep on his individooal spoke; and if 
he’s got the right spirit he’ll invite 
them as hasn’t no spoke at all to make 
use of hisn. But as for sayin’ that 
your spoke is any better than the next 
one, you can’t honestly do it. 

“I wouldn’t lift my hand to help a 



49 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


J man from his spoke to mine unless he 
. wasn’t happy where he happened to 
' be, and didn’t like the color of the 
’ spoke he was travelin’ on; but I’d go 
, considerable out of my way to lift a 
poor fellow who is wanderin’ round 
between the spokes, and has lost him- 
self, to get on my spoke. After that, 
if I found he liked some one else’s 
spoke better’n mine. I’d do all I could 
; to get him where he’d make the most 
progress. 

“There ain’t no religion in quarrel- 
in’ about spokes, but if you want to 
discuss plans for h’istin’ everybody on 
some one of the spokes and givin’ 
him a fair chance to get to the hub at 



50 


SPOKES AND HUB 


last, why, that’s a very different sort 
of thing.” 

‘‘Then you’d have me praise all de- 
nominations equally, would you, 
Hiram?” said John. “That would 
hardly be reasonable. Didn’t I join 
this one because I believe it to have 
advantages over others, and if I think 
so oughtn’t I to say so? It seems to 
me I should be loyal to the body of 
which I am a part.” 

“Yes, parson, you jined it because 
it had advantages over others for you 
yourself. That’s why I jined it too. 
But you don’t mean that because you 
jined it therefore everybody else 
ought to jine it, do you?” 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

“Certainly he does,” broke in the 
deacon; “that’s jest what he means.” 

“Then he’d be more shaller than I 
think he is,” replied Hiram good- 
naturedly. “The fust thing is to be 
ambitious for souls. It’s not only the 
fust thing, but the only thing. If 
your denomination thrives because of 
that, well and good. I hain’t nothin’ 
to say agin it. But what you’re after 
is souls, and the denomination’ll 
foller at its own gait. There ain’t no 
use of talkin’, parson, men is made on 
different plans, and they can’t all 
think alike or feel alike. There are 
the Methodis’ up at tother end of the 



52 



SPOKES AND HUB 


village. Jest see what they’re doin’ ! 
Now, we can’t all be Methodis’, for 
we ain’t built that way; but would it 
do you, or me, or would it do the Lord 
any harm if you was to call them 
Methodis’ your brethren, and lend ’em 
a helpin’ hand when they get up a fair 
to pay off their debt^” 

‘"What!” cried the deacon in alarm, 
''take money out of our pockets to arm 
our rivals with weapons against our- 
selves? What are you thinkin’ of, 
Hiram?” 

"I’m tryin’ to think of God,” said 
Hiram quietly, "and not too much of 
our partic’lar way of doin’ things.” 



53 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


“Go on, Hiram,” said John. 
“You were about to say something 
else.” 

I “Wall, at the other end of the vil- 
lage is the ’Piscopalians and the Pres- 
byterians. Now I couldn’t be neither 
one nor t’other, and yet I sometimes 
think I’m both. Ain’t they mowin’ 
down evil with a sharp scythe, and 
ain’t they cuttin’ a pretty wide 
^swarth? Would you stop ’em? I 
make a mistake in you, parson, if you 
would.” 

“Then you don’t believe in no 
true church, don’t you?” asked the 
deacon. 

“Yes I do, yes I do,” was the ear- 



54 




SPOKES AND HUB 


nest response. “I believe if you 
should roll all the churches up in one 
bunch, that would be the true church. 
This one is true for me, and that one 
is true for the next man, and I don’t 
see how you can get out of it. 
What’s wanted is somethin’ for 
everybody, and if everybody is to 
have somethin’ then that somethin’ 
ought to have different tastes to 
suit varyin’ dispositions and tempera- 
ments.” 

''You seem to be willing to take the 
whole world to your embrace on equal 
terms, Hiram,” suggested the minis- 
ter. "I don’t think I can quite go 
with you to that extent.” 


55 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


‘‘Nor me neither,” said the deacon. 
‘‘ ’Tain’t natur.” 

‘‘You would dissipate all pride 
^of denomination,” continued John, 
, “which you must admit is a very im- 
portant matter, and thereby lessen the 
enthusiasm of the whole body of 
clergy.” 

“Lessen their enthusiasm, parson 
replied Hiram with some ardor. 
[ “Nothin’ of the sort, accordin’ to my 
way of thinkin’. If you was in the 
stern of a life-boat, try in’ to save 
some wrecked sailors, it ought not to 
lessen your enthusiasm because the 
man at the bow was haulin’ the drip- 
pin’ fellers in at his end, and doin’ 
56 




SPOKES AND HUB 


as good work as you was doin’ at your 
end. Not a bit of it, parson. On 
the other hand, if you work in the 
right spirit, your enthusiasm is in- 
creased by the successful work of 
other people. Now, if your object in 
goin’ in that life-boat had a element 
of pure selfishness in it, and you 
wanted to show what a big and strong 
man you was, you’d be awfully dis- 
couraged if some one else was bigger j i 
and stronger than you, and got more 
half-drowned folks into the boat than 
you did. But if you had the proper 
motive, and your only purpose was to 
have the lost saved, no matter who 
saved ’em, you’d thank God that some 


57 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

one was workin’ alongside of you, and 
then strain a muscle to see if you 
couldn’t get hold of an extra soul or 
two.” 

‘‘You don’t think it well, I take it, 
to have the world divided into reli- 
gious sects, then, Hiram. In that 
case, why do you belong to one par- 
ticular sect? You are apparently in- 
Vov consistent there.” 

■[ 1 § “I guess not, parson. I believe in 
^ sects with all my heart, but I can’t 
f believe in fences between ’em. With 
a powerful devil to fight, I don’t see 
no sense in wastin’ our gunpowder or. 
each other. Instead of sayin’ to each 
other, ‘I’m right, and you’re wrong,’ I 

58 




SPOKES AND HUB 



would have ’em say, ‘We are both 
right, and the devil is wrong,’ and 
then jine forces to whip the enemy. I 
would leave all the sects jest as they 
be, but I would make ’em neighborly. 

“Now, when we had the great war 
that we’ve just come out of, we got 
together a tremenjous army, and they 
h’isted the flag and nailed it to the 
masthead. The gov’ment didn’t say 
that every regiment should wear the 
same uniform, though they was all 
fightin’ for the same cause. Oh no, 
parson. Mr. Lincoln allowed Illinois 
to get up a regiment of artillery, and 
Massachusetts to get up a regiment 
of cavalry, and New York to send a 



59 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


regiment of Zouaves, with red shirts 
and blue trowsers. If a man wanted 
to jine the artillery, all right. He 
was welcome to do it. If he jined the 
cavalry, all right; nobody said nothin’. 
If he wanted to be a Zouave, all right. 
What difference did it make, so long 
as he went into the field? People 
followed their own tastes in such mat- 
ters, because it wasn’t no matter 
^ where they was, provided they was in 
fightin’ trim. 

‘'Jest look at the picter. There was 
the enemy, and a hard enemy they was 
to beat. We found that out, didn’t 
we? Who cared whether this soldier 
had on a red coat, if he handled his 



6o 



SPOKES AND HUB 


gun proper? Courage don’t depend 
on clothing, but on the heart, and what 
we wanted was courage. 'God bless 
every one of ’em,’ we said, 'and they 
can have pea-green uniforms if they 
want to.’ Why, if you and I had 
dared to criticise ’em in them partic’- 
lars, we should have been hooted out 
of town, and, parson, we’d ’a’ deserved 
to be.” 

"Oh yes, that’s all straight, Hi- 
ram,” began the deacon; "but don’t 
you see — ” 

"Jest wait a minute, deacon,” broke 
in the shoemaker; "I’m cornin’ to that 
p’int directly. Now, in them times 
there was some folks up north who 



6i 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION • 

didn’t want to wear no uniform at all, 
and objected to jinin’ any regiment. 
They was after fightin’ on their own 
individooal hook. In that case we 
shouldn’t ’a’ knowed whether they 
was on our side or t’other, and they 

I might get shot by their own friends. 
What did we say? We told ’em that 
the federal army, with the flag of the 
vsv Union floatin’ above it, was a organ- 
§ I ^ ized body of men, and that organiza- 
Y tic)n was necessary to effective work, 
f If you take a handful of loose sand 
and throw it at the winder-pane, it 
don’t break nothin’; but if your hand- 
ful of sand is made solid like the 
atoms of a stone, and then you throw 
62 





SPOKES AND HUB 


it, you break the winder-pane to < 
smash. That’s the way we argyed. 
We didn’t ask people to enlist in this | 
regiment, or in that one, but we asked ^ 
’em to choose any regiment, and then 
put on that regiment’s uniform. Not 
that the uniform was better than the 
others, but it was theirs. If we had 
t fought as individooals, without bein’ , 
f properly commanded, we should have 
lost the day, for certain ; but we fought j [ 
in companies, in battalions, in army 
corps, and so won the battle.” 

''Now let’s hear what all this is 
driftin’ toward,” said the deacon. 

"Well, it’s jest this wise. I would 
say the same thing about religion. 

63 



HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

The rule holds good in both cases, and 
no mistake. I wouldn’t tell a man he 
must jine this or that or the other 
church. There is churches enough to 
suit everybody’s peculiarities, and he 
should be free to do as he pleases 
about that. I would say, 'Jine some 
church, any church, and I shall be sat- 
isfied. Don’t fight the evil in the 
world on your own hook, as a free 
^ T I lance, because you will throw your 
w best efforts away and waste a lot of 
I vallible energy. Jine anywhere, only 
jine, and add your individooal 
strength to the strength of others. If 
you do that, you never’ 11 be sorry. 
What do you say, parson?” 

64 





SPOKES AND HUB 


‘'Well, I can only partially agree 
with you, Hiram. I don’t think you 
emphasize denominationalism enough. 
It is worth more than you think it is. 
Still, I am interested in your views; 
go on, and pray tell us how you have 
reached these rather unusual and odd 
conclusions.” 

Hiram was silent for a minute or 
two, apparently lost in meditation. 
He looked up at the sky and the scud- 
ding clouds, but did not find there 
what he wanted. Then he looked 
through the open window, into his lit- 
tle shop, glanced hastily at the work- 
bench on which he had sat for many a 
year, at the hammer lying on the floor, 


HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 


at the lapstone, and at a pile of shoes, 
large and small, in various stages of 
dilapidation. They did not, how- 
ever, furnish him with the illustration 
he sought. At last his eyes fell on 
the river, only a hundred yards away, 
and at once his face brightened. 

‘Tarson,” he began, “have you ever 
rowed on the Cheroquee?” 

“But once or twice, on a summer 
evening, Hiram.” 

“You have, deacon?” 

“Yes, as many times as there are 
straws in a haystack.” 

“Then you’ve noticed, deacon, that 
for half a dozen miles, either way 
66 




SPOKES AND HUB 

from here, it flows through different 
kinds of soil/’ 

''I hev; you’re right there, Hiram.” 

''Away up yonder, parson, to the 
nor’ard, and just this side of Clover- 
top, there’s a soft bank of clay, and as 
the water rushes by the bend it breaks 
into this clay and becomes muddy. 
You’ve noticed that, deacon?” 

"For sartin, Hiram.” 

"Two miles lower down there is an 
area of red sand, and the river takes 
up a quantity of that, too.” 

"Right up there by the big perch 
holes, you mean,- Hiram, opposite 
Widow Green’s farm?” 

67 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

'Trecisely, deacon. Then down 
yonder, to the southward, the soil is 
black loam, and it mixes easily with 
the current. 

‘‘Now then, s’pose I fill three bot- 
tles at these three different p’ints, and 
then place them on a shelf, what hap- 
pens^ In the course of a few hours 
each bottle has a quantity of pure, 
clear water on top, and a lot of sedi- 
ment on the bottom. That’s nateral. 
In one bottle, the sediment is clay; in 
the next, it is red sand; in the third, it 
is dark-brown or black loam. 

“Well, the River of Life is like the 
Cheroquee. It runs through various 



68 



SPOKES AND HUB 

countries, and temperaments, and 
times, and perhaps prejudices. This 
River of Life, when it starts from the 
Throne of God, is absolutely clear 
water, but somehow it gets colored by 
the different denominations through 
which it flows. I don’t see how that 
can be helped, and I’m not certain that 
it ought to be helped. 

''Your Methodism gives it one col- 
or, your Catholicism gives it another 
color, and your Presbyterianism and 
’Piscopalianism gives it still another 
color. Mind you, parson, no matter 
how it is colored, it’s always the River 
of Life. Don’t forget that. Yes, 
69 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



it’s always the River of Life, wher- 
ever it flows, no matter how muddied 
up it may be. 

'If you fill your bottle at the p’int 
where it flows through these different 
sects of Christians, the fust thing you 
notice is that the water ain’t exactly 
clear. Let the bottles stand for a 
while, and then you find that the 
water has purified itself, and the for- 
eign substances that don’t properly 
belong to it has all settled to the bot- 
tom. That water is the same in all 
your bottles, and it’s the genooine ar- 
ticle. These sediments, black, brown, 
red, or any other color, represent the 
'isms’ of the church — Presbyterian- 


70 


SPOKES AND HUB 


y 


ism, Episcopal-ism, Catholic-ism, 
Method-ism, and so on. 

‘‘The sediment isn’t worth much if 
you happen to be thirsty, though that’s 
what men have been quarrelin’ about. 
The water, though, will quench your 
thirst, and it ain’t no matter which 
bottle you drink out of. 

“In this life it seems to be necessary 
to have a certain amount of sediment 
in our religion, but in the hereafter 
that will all be filtered out. That’s 
why I love every man who loves 
Christ, and that’s why I never ask 
what sediment he believes in, but 
whether he’s drinkin’ from the River 
of Life.” 



pQoi 


III 

''fearin’ and tremblin’ ” 

John Jessig opened his house every^ 
Wednesday evening for general con-’ 
versation on religious subjects. These 
meetings were well attended, partly, 
because there was a good deal of en- 
thusiasm in the parish, partly because’ 
they were more informal than a gath-' 
ering in any church could be, and 
partly because at eight o’clock an urn, 
of tea and another of coffee were 
brought into the room and a half-hour 
of sociability followed. 


4 ^ 





TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’” 

Tea and coffee as auxiliaries to reli- 
gion have been greatly underesti- 
mated. The aroma of these genial 
beverages dissipates the frigid stateli- 
ness of such occasions, and exerts a 
very neighborly if not a distinctly 
evangelical influence. T wo men who 
are reasonably well acquainted will 
sit stiffly side by side for a full hour, 
as though they were a couple of icicles, 
or as though they were participants in 
a family feud, not knowing how to be- 
gin a conversation, or perhaps with no 
desire to begin one. The cunning 
magic of a cup of coffee changes their 
thoughts and feelings in an instant, 
loosens their tongues by some unac- 



73 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


countable legerdemain, and starts 
them on a dozen topics in a dozen 
minutes. 

I Every clergyman knows that the 
simplest kind of refreshment works 
wonders. Invisible barriers tumble to 
invisible ground, and the chill air gives 
way to something almost tropical. 
Whether it is that the spiritual life is 
distantly or indirectly related to the 
^digestive organs, I have never been 
able to discover. I merely relate 
facts, and leave the philosophy which 
underlies them to abler and more curi- 
ous minds. 

Young people especially are always 
in a state of chronic hunger. They 



74 


i 


1 


FEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’” 


attend a meeting in the vestry, which 
has no kitchen attached, in the spirit- 
ual condition indicated by wraps and 
furs ; but the sociability engendered in 
a meeting which offers even the hum- 
ble sandwich is as tempting as a flower 
garden. The ice of formality melts, 
and religion joins hands with general 
good feeling when the coffee-pot hums 
its little song. 

John Jessig had learned this secret]; 
from the aged ex-pastor, who in turn 
had learned it by repeated experi- 
ment. From seven o’clock to eight on 
this particular evening he had sug- 
gested a variety of topics — the church 
debt, the feasibility of holding a fair 

75 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


VsV 


to pay off the mortgage, and the best 
means of reaching the unchurched of 
Woodbine; but no one ventured to 
break silence except Deacon North- 
wind, who droned in his usual way 
and got all his verbs tangled in the 
meshes of his adjectives, and one other 
individual, who spoke so low that he 
could hardly hear his own voice. It 
was an iceberg hour, and John felt the 
cold chills creeping over him. 

But after the table had been cleared 
away it seemed as though everybody 
wanted to talk at once. Sisters and 
brethren were alike so full of opinions 
that they could hardly contain them- 
selves. Faces wore an entirely differ- 
76 



^TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’’’ W 

ent expression, and tongues which had 
suffered from paralysis suddenly 
started into activity. The meeting I ^ 
from that moment was not merely 'fX' 
lively, but effervescent, and John rec- I A 
ognized gratefully the benign influ- 
ence of the coffee berry and the tea W 
plant. I 

That portion of the debate to which 
I wish to call your attention follow"'^ ** 



close on the heels of a remark 


Farmer Kinch. Kinch was a thor- 
oughly good man — now gone to his 
reward — but his heart seemed to work 
upside-down. Religion, to him, in- 
volved a frightful responsibility. 
There was a modicum of misery in his 


77 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

happiness. If there had not been, he 
could not have been happy at all. 
The ordinary pleasures of life seemed 
to him to be tinged with criminality, 
and whenever he saw a man thor- 
oughly enjoying himself he shook his 
heard mournfully. 

It might not be fair to say that some 
people are so good that they are bad; 
but I venture the assertion that when 
a man thinks God made a mistake in 
creating flowers and painting the sky 
blue instead of black, and then runs 
his life by that theory, he depresses 
the spiritual vitality in his vicinity. 

Farmer Kinch had only one string 
to his harp, but he played on that 

78 




TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’^ 


with vigor and persistency. It was 
what the neighbors called "'the fear 
and tremblin’ string.” 

Hiram listened very respectfully 
at first, but, after that, very impa- 
tiently. He shifted from one side of 
his chair to the other, and at last, un- 
able to stand the pressure any longer, 
broke in on the monotonous speaker. 

"Brother Kinch,” he said, "I’ve 
been thinkin’ about that for a good]’ 
many years now. I reckon you and 
me agree about the fust part, that 
is, the workin’-out-our-salvation part, 
because salvation is a great and glo- 
rious thing, that can’t be understood 
all to once. There’s a mighty deal to 


79 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

it, more than any one can get hold of 
in a day, or a year, or a lifetime. We 
keep workin’ at it, unrollin’ it, exam- 
inin’ it, and the more we work the 
more we learn about it, and the more 
grateful we be. But as to the 'fear 
and tremblin’,’ I don’t exactly catch 
your meanin’. How do you explain 
. that?” 

jliV "Wall,” said Farmer Kinch, not 
J T I ; unwilling to measure swords with his 
w adversary, and feeling very sure of 
I his ground, "I take the Scripter just 
as it reads. It’s plain enough, and I 
don’t see no chance for a difference of 
opinion. When the Bible says spade 
I don’t s’pose it means shovel.” 

8o 






^TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’” 

‘'That’s all right,” rejoined Hiram. 
“But the parson will tell us, I guess, 
that before we make a theory out of 
Scripter it’s dangerous not to examine 
it pretty thorough. If it says spade 
so plain that nobody can make any- 
thin’ else out of it, then I am willin’ 
to take the spade and work out my 
salvation with it. I don’t want no 
shovel if the Lord says spade, and I 
won’t handle nothin’ else. But in 
my jedgment a good deal of injury 
has been done by not knowin’ what 
God reely said. Ain’t that so, par- 
son?” 

“On general principles,” answered 
John Jessig, “Brother Golf is right; 

8i 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


I but I don’t quite see the drift of the 
argument. Perhaps Brother Kinch 
‘ will explain himself a little further.” 

''Accordin’ to my mind,” responded 
, the former, "no man can’t be happy 
if he’s got a 'fear and tremblin’ ’ job 
on his hands.” 

Hiram bowed his head approvingly. 

"Salvation,” continued Kinch, "is 
jest that sort of thing, and you can’t 
' get away from it. We’ve got to be 
saved, and it ain’t easy. Religion is 
dreadful serious, because gettin’ to 
heaven has a good many uncertainties 
connected with it.” 

"But let us get right down to 
the main p’int,” suggested Hiram. 
82 


‘TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’” 



‘'What is it that a man has got to 
fear, and what is there that he must 
tremble about?” 

“Why, he ought to fear that after 
all he won’t get the salvation, of 
course. Isn’t that what the Bible 
says? And how can he help trem- 
blin’ if he has sot his heart on it, and 
knows that at any minute it may slip 
away from him? No man ain’t safe 
until he’s on the other side of Jordan, j[ 
and can’t go the wrong way any more. 
Human natur is such that you can’t 
feel sure of heaven until you get there. 
That’s my doctrine, and that’s what 
St. Paul tells us.” 

Hiram hung his head. His atti- 

83 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


tude showed that he was both grieved 
and puzzled. ‘‘Wall,” he said, in very 
sorrowful tones, “if Brother Kinch is 
right, then I’ve traveled for forty year 
on the wrong road. I’ll have to throw 
away all I’ve been gatherin’ and be- 
gin over again. No man ain’t safe 
from condemnation until he’s dead. 
Is that what you said, brother?” 

“That’s jest it exactly,” repeated 
Kinch, rather doggedly. 

“Can that be so?” continued Hi- 
ram. “Isn’t a man safe when he’s got 
the promise of God in his heart? If 
God can’t keep that promise now, 
what reason have you to s’pose He 
can keep it hereafter? You see, all 

84 




TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’^ 


the underpinnin’ is kinder knocked 
from my faith, and it’s likely to tum- 
ble to pieces. I shouldn’t like to have 
anythin’ of that kind happen to me.” 

‘Terhaps,” suggested John, ''you 
agree with Brother Kinch on the main 
point, and disagree only about the 
proper definition of terms.” 

"No, I’m afraid it’s a good deal 
deeper than that,” said Hiram, shak- 
ing his head, "a good deal deeper. 
But let me put it in this way: If I 
buy a horse of you. Farmer Kinch, and 
give you my note for it, due in ninety 
days, you will naterally have some 
anxiety about your money. You 
keep your eyes on my business. I may 

85 




HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

be willin’ enough to pay, but perhaps 
I can’t. It ain’t my willin’ness or un- 
willin’ness that bothers you, but my 
ability. If people tell you that I 
have plenty of shoes to mend, so many 
that I have to work by candle-light, 
then you feel reasonably sure of get- 

I tin’ your money when the time comes. 
But if you come round to my cottage 
y and see that work is slack, that I’ve 
• T thrown my lapstone on the floor and 
w am readin’ a newspaper or a book, 
I then you look for’ard to the collection 
of that debt with fear and tremblin’. 
The payment of that money depends 
on contingencies which I can’t control, 
and I shouldn’t blame you if you was 
86 





TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’^ 


to shake your head and say, ‘I don’t 
quite see how Hiram Golf is goin’ to 
meet that obligation/ Ain’t that 
so?” 

"'Yes, it looks that way,” and Kinch 
nodded his head. "That’s precisely 
where the fear and tremblin’ comes 
in.” 

"All right, and I hain’t nothin’ to 
say agin it, neighbor Kinch. But in 
the matter of salvation there ain’t no 
Hiram Golf to deal with, but the Lord 
God Himself. There ain’t no con- 
tingencies with Him. No unforeseen 
accident ever happens in the region of 
the Throne. When He promises to 
do anythin’. He’s goin’ to keep the 

87 




HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

promise, and if after He has give you 
the pledge and you have accepted it, 
if after that you go round with the 
feelin’ that He can’t meet His obliga- 
tions, why, you don’t understand who 
you’re dealin’ with, that’s all. When 
God tells me that He’ll do somethin’ 
I for me by and by, it’s jest as good as 
done, and I’m certain of it as though 
y|y I had it right here in my hand.” 
jf X f ”You can’t be sure of nothin’ till 
’W you get it,” persisted Kinch. “It’s a 
I pretty loose sort of religion, to my 
mind, that makes a man say he’s sure 
of goin’ to heaven.” 

“And in my jedgment,” responded 
Hiram, “it’s a pretty loose sort of reli- 




88 



TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’’ 


gion which allows a man to feel any 
doubt about it after he has accepted 
Christ for his Saviour.” 

‘'Accordin’ to you, Hiram,” said 
Kinch, “when you once get converted 
you ought to believe the matter all 
closed up and settled. That don’t 
strike me as sense.” 

“It’s not only sense, but revela- 
tion,” cried Hiram, whose eyes began 
to flash. “When I have a distinct 
promise of God, I should consider my- 
self worse than an infidel to stay 
awake a minute thinkin’ about it. 
There it is, and that’s the end of it. 
I’ve got it; it’s mine. Neither prin- 
cipalities nor powers can rob me of it. 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


Thieves can’t steal it, and if the house 
catches fire and everythin’ else is 
burned up, I’ve got that promise.” . 

''You are in a dangerous state of 
mind,” said the farmer. "I wouldn’t 
swap my belief for yours for the whole 
world to boot!” 

"On the contrary. I’m in a very 
happy and contented frame of mind, 
for, surrounded as we all be with un- 
^certainties, there are some things I’m 
perfectly sure of. I go round singin’ 
all day. I shout 'Glory Hallelujah!’ 
as I peg away at them shoes. I feel 
as though I had suddenly fallen heir 
to a big estate. I can’t help tellin’ 
about my good fortune to every one 



90 



TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’^ 


who comes into my little shop, and I ; 
can’t help sayin’ that there’s plenty / 
more left, and he can have all he ' 
wants and be as happy as I am. I * 
wish all the world had it, I wish every- 
body here in Woodbine had it, I wish 
you had it yourself. Brother Kinch, 
for then we’d send up a great chorus 
of praise every mornin’.” 

‘‘Hm! Yes,” broke in Cynthia.' 
‘'But, Hiram, you seem to know a \ 
good deal more about these things 
than St. Paul did. When a man 
knows as much as that, I feel a little 
skittish about follerin’ him. It’s a 
safe rule not to holler till you’re out 
of the woods, and you don’t get out of 

91 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



the woods into the clearin’ till you 
die.” 

Hiram gave a glance at John Jessig. 
The little company was thoroughly 
roused, and the minister especially 
seemed to enjoy the situation im- 
mensely. 

‘'Ain’t I takin’ up too much time?” 
asked Hiram, but John nodded, and 
the shoemaker went on : 

“The question ain’t whether I know 
more’n St. Paul did. I don’t want 
you to think I’m settin’ myself before 
the Scripters. I love the Bible, and 
have read every word of it a great 
many times. No, the question ain’t 
whether I know more’n the Apostle 
92 


TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’” 


did, but whether I’ve caught his 
meanin’. It’s very unfort’nate when 
we get a wrong meanin’ out of the 
text, and build a doctrine on it.” 

''Then,” said Kinch, "do you mean 
that after all you do fear and tremble 
about your salvation'?” 

"Yes, jest that. I spend every day 
in fear and tremblin’, but — ” 

"Precisely,” broke in Cynthia, with 
an air of argumentative triumph. 
"Then you and we agree.” 

"Not quite, I think,” answered Hi- 
ram solemnly. 

"What do you fear. Brother Hiram, 
and at what do you tremble?” asked 
John. 


93 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



‘Tarson, Lm not afraid that God 
won’t keep His promise, and I’m not 
afraid that He can’t keep it, and I’m 
not afraid that I haven’t got it all safe 
in my heart. I want to make that 
plain as possible. But I do fear that 
I can’t be grateful enough for what 
God has given me, and I do tremble 
because He is so wonderful generous 
that He is tryin’ to pour a whole gal- 
lon of salvation into my poor little 
teacup of a soul. I’m afraid I can’t 
hold it all. Just think of it ! He will 
blot out all my sins, and accept 
Christ’s sacrifice in my behalf! He 
will give me a new body when this one 
is worn out — and it’s pretty nigh that 



94 



I shall Still be only a Little Chiny Cup to Hold a Whole Ocean of Heaven ” 





^TEARIN’ AND TREMBLIN’’’ 

nowadays. He will take me to a 
House where there won’t be no more 
want, no more sorrer, and no more 
grief! He holds me up when I sink 
under the heavy burden, and by and 
by He will brush death aside, give me 
a share in the general resurrection, 
and allow me to live with Him for- 
ever and forever. 

‘1 call Him 'my Father,’ but the 
word don’t begin to explain my feel- 
in’s. It’s all beyond me; more, infi- 
nitely more, than I deserve. Can I 
help singin’ at such a prospect ? Shall 
I go about sighin’ and groanin’ under 
them circumstances? I tell you, par- 
son, I can’t do it, I can’t do it. The 



95 



96 


IV 

FEW DUTIES, MANY PRIVILEGES 

It was Blue Monday with John 
Jessig. In the vocabulary of the 
sensitive clergyman these are the two. 
most appalling words. John had. 
slept restlessly the night before, and 
his troubled dreams a frightful* 
hobgoblin had appeared, holding in 
his hands a sermon of Sunday morn-, 
ing, and laughing contemptuously as 
he shook it in the trembling parson’s 
Jace. 'Is that the best you can do?” 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

asked the spirit derisively. ‘'Were 
you educated through long years and 
at great expense to produce such a 
flimsy, sleepy apology of a sermon as 
that?” 

Then the scene suddenly changed, 
and John saw a little knot of his par- 
ishioners at the church door indulging 
in criticisms under their breath, which 
vly were far more candid than agreeable. 

I ! ^ Their words were as indistinct as the 
^ far-away echo of muttering thunder, 
f but his heart sank as he came down 
the aisle. 

When he rose from unrestful slum- 
ber, it was with the depressing con- 
viction that he was never intended 




98 


FEW DUTIES 




for the pulpit, that the genius of the 
preacher was wholly lacking, and that 
the sooner he gave up his profession 
and made room for a more acceptable 
pastor, the better for himself and for 
every one concerned. 

I suppose all ministers have such 
dreams at times, and take a lonely 
tramp through the valley of humilia- 
tion on a Monday morning. It is the 
one day of the week to be dreaded — ] ; 
an ordeal for body and soul alike. If 
they can manage to pull through the 
heavy hours till the stars come out on 
Monday night, they can face the 
other days with cheerful resignation; 
but Monday is the period of intellect- 


99 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

ual and spiritual reaction, and its 
twelve hours are twelve taunting 
ghouls. The bow has been bent un- 
til everything is taut and ready to 
snap ; the brain has been in a whirl of 
excitement; the heart has been on fire, 
and the lassitude which follows is 
almost hopeless in character. The 
, minister finds himself in a state of 
i)i|V partial collapse, is haunted by the 
i T g thought that he ought never to write 
W another sermon, that he has made the 
I fatal mistake of a lifetime, that he is 
like a fisherman whose net is full of 
great rents through which the fish es- 
cape, that he is bungling the work of 




FEW DUTIES 

the Lord, and is unworthy of the com- 
mission he has received. 

Mary Jessig was a true helpmeet. 
She knew that John’s suffering was 
the consequence of overwrought 
nerves, and that a brisk walk in the 
country air would set him right again. 
She had prepared an appetizing 
breakfast, and while the good man at 
the other side of the table was butter- 
ing a roll, and looking downcast and j ‘ 
weary, cautiously and tactfully sug- 
gested that the sermon was a good 
deal better than he thought it. She 
had overheard Deacon Eastwind, who 
was by no means given to flattery — 


101 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

John must admit that — say to his 
neighbor that it was worth tackling 
up his horse and driving ten miles to 
hear. Such a wife is a friend in need, 
and as John was hungry for some sort 
of commendation he looked relieved 
and faintly smiled. 

Nobody knows or can know how 
much a word of good cheer is worth 
to the man who occupies the pulpit. 
He is always distrustful of himself, 
and seldom sees whether the Gospel 
shots he is firing hit the mark or not. 
Unless the people who stand near the 
target, or, better still, the people who 
are themselves the target, tell him 
that his marksmanship is good, how 



102 




f FEW DUTIES 

[can he find it out? Nothing so 
. wrenches a minister’s emotions as to 
see the congregation, which has per- 
haps listened respectfully to his 
words, file silently out of church with 
the apparent intention of avoiding 
the preacher because they don’t want 
to hurt his feelings by expressing their 
real opinions. Its effect on the cler- 
ical mind is like that of an extin- 
guisher on a candle. 

If the people would take some pains 
to recognize the work of their pastor, 
would linger long enough to take him 
by the hand in friendly greeting, they 
would thereby insure more effective 
sermons; for, after all, the preacher 



103 



HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 


J must not only minister to his congre- 
. gation, but be ministered to by them. 
'Good preaching is always an act of 
^ reciprocity. It consists of giving the 
people the food which they have 
shown a desire for. ‘‘1 like what you 
said,” remarks some poor soul that is 
wandering in darkness, and at once 
the minister puts another loaf of the 
same kind into the oven. If the peo- 
I pie’s attitude, instead of being indif- 
ferent, is one of friendly interest, the 
pastor catches the magnetic influence, 
and is borne upward as on the wings 
of an eagle. He outdoes himself in 
teaching when they outdo themselves 
in listening. 



104 



FEW DUTIES 


I used to tell my own people when 
they chanced to praise my sermon, 
that they preached it, not I. No man 
can help being eloquent, in its best 
sense, when the people’s hearts as well 
as their ears are open. If he loves 
them, and they love him, it is easy for 
all to love the Lord. There is noth- 
ing so suggestive to the speaker as the 
upturned faces in the pews. Many 
and many a time I have left my notes 
and followed the mood of some man 
or woman, applying the text to what 
was evidently his or her condition of 
mind. In that way my own soul 
went out in sympathy to that other 
soul, and we two traveled in confi- 
105 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


Vn 


dential company until the Doxologyj 
was announced. I say, therefore, ^ 
without hesitation, that congrega- ^ 
tions are responsible for the majority^ 
of poor sermons with which they are' 
afflicted. If the minister is apart 
from them he becomes dull and per- 
functory; if they are a part of the 
minister, and give him the stimulus of ' 
a kind word, he becomes earnest, 
|;pointed, and pungent. ^ 

John Jessig wandered into Hiram’s 
little shop on that Monday morning. 
The shoemaker had heard him preach 
the day before, and would doubtless 
have something to say. 

‘'No, I can’t talk with you now,” 
106 



FEW DUTIES 


said Hiram cheerfully, "'but Fll get ' 
through with this job in half an hour. 
You see, parson,” and he held the 
shoe up for John to inspect, "that’s a 
very bad rip, and the poor woman 
who wears that shoe can’t afford to 
buy another pair jest yet. It’s pretty 
close business with her to make two 
ends meet. I shall find some way to 
patch the thing up, but I’ve got to put 
my whole mind to it. Now look here, i 
parson. I’ll tell you what to do. Jest 
go over the way to Jane Jenks, and 
have a chat with her. She’s a right 
up-and-down Christian, is that wom- 
an. She’s got religion enough to do 
housework with, and look after her 
107 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

children. It takes a good deal to do 
that, parson,” and he looked through 
the dingy window to the cottage of 
his neighbor. ‘'You know what’s 
happened, don’t you?” 

“No, Hiram, I do not. Is it any- 
thing serious?” 

“Yes, Lm af eared so. Reuben got 
a bad tumble last Friday, and they 
j say two of his ribs is broke. I reckon 
;T|;you don’t know how awfully poor 
W they are, but you ought to. Reuben 
I has had a run of bad luck lately, and 
his faith is mightily shaken by it. I 
guess he’s a good deal like a drownin’ 
man who can’t see no help, and don’t 
know whether it’ll pay to hold on to 




108 



FEW DUTIES 


’ the timber any longer. Jane was 
, cryin’ pretty bad when I saw her yes- 
terday afternoon, but the basket of 
potatoes and the piece of pork cheered 
' her up considerable. They hain’t got 
any too much in the larder, and if we 
are reely children of one family, the 
sooner we stand by them folks the bet- 
ter. Now excuse me, parson, for this 
shoe is the tormen tines t puzzle I’ve 
had in a long while. Come back in 
half an hour, for I’ve got somethin’ 
partic’lar to say.” 

''About the sermon, Hiram?” 

"Yes, about the sermon.” 

"You — you didn’t quite agree with 
me then?” 



109 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



^‘You’re mistook for once, parson. 
It was a grand sermon, a noble and 
sustainin’ sermon, and I want you to^ 
preach another like it, only stronger. 
That’s the right nail, but you’ve got 
to drive it home. There, don’t keep 
me from my work.” 

John’s heart was in his mouth. 
He came very near laughing as he 
crossed the road. His spirits rose, 
his eyes brightened, and when he 
knocked at the Jenks’s cottage he 
was a boy again. 'Terhaps I am 
some good, after all,” he said to him- 
self. 

He was only a shoemaker who had 
talked to the minister? No, it was a 



FEW DUTIES 


human soul that cheerily greeted an- 
other soul, and that is a very different 
matter. 

John did not want to be flattered, 
only encouraged. Flattery is coun- 
terfeit coin, and no true minister will 
tolerate it for an instant. Kindly 
words, however, go a great way, and 
the average clergyman gets altogether 
too few of them. 

‘'Now then, parson,'’ said Hiram 
^ when the minister reappeared, ‘Tve 
finished that bit of work, and am at 
your service. You were quite right 
in askin’ if I wanted to talk about 
that sermon. I’m glad of the chance 
to do it.” 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

John was gratified, and full of 
pleasant expectancy. 

‘'Let me see,’’ said Hiram, ‘‘you 
was tellin’ about duties and privi- 
leges. I came near shoutin’, parson, 
when you said that — how did you put 
it? — that our privileges as Christians 
is about ten times as many as our 
duties. Didn’t you say that, or 
pretty nigh that?” 

John nodded. 

“Good. You pulled the right bell- 
rope that time. There’s lots of peo- 
ple, parson, and good people too, who 
are everlastin’ly talkin’ about duty, 
duty, duty. I’m tired of the subject. 
If you can once fill a man’s heart with 



112 


FEW DUTIES 


love, the duties disappear. He 
hain’t got nothin’ left but privileges.” 

‘'You must be careful not to over- 
state that matter, Hiram,” suggested 
John. “There are duties, plenty of 
them.” 

“Name one, parson.” 

“Well, isn’t it our duty to love our 
neighbor as ourself?” 

“No, parson, it ain’t; not by no 
means. I can’t possibly love my 
neighbor as myself if I do it as a duty, 
because I don’t love myself as a duty, 
do I? Duty and love is a badly 
matched double team, and don’t pull 
well together in harness. They are 
like Peter Johnson’s sorrel and chest- 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



nut. The chestnut wants to prance 
all the time, and the sorrel is sober 
and melancholy. They stand out 
aginst each other, and neither can 
know what he can do best, because 
the other interferes. The Christian 
ought to be in sech a frame of mind 
that he will love his neighbor jest as 
he love his brother and sister, and for 
the same reason, only it’s a spiritual 
instead of a blood relation. 

‘If I see a forlorn creeter who has 
wasted his life, do I pity him as a mat- 
ter of duty^? Oh no. I couldn’t do 
anythin’ else but pity him. It’s the 
natur of a soul that’s born again. I 
know God pities him, and I can’t help 
114 



FEW DUTIES 


doin’ the same. Fm sorry he’s gone] 
astray, and am sure he isn’t havin’ a - 
good time. He’s got hold of life at] 
the wrong end. ’Tain’t for me to say ' 
what drove him to the bad, but since 
he’s there, my heart goes out to him. 
I’m right in the midst of a whole lot 
of privileges when I feel that way. I 
think to myself, ‘How good God must 
be to care for that ragged and un- 
washed soul ! What a blessed thing 
it is that He asks me to jine in with 
Him in the work, and do what I can 
to lift that man out of the mire! 
God and me in partnership for the re- 
demption of mankind!’ Why, sech 
a thought is a revelation! Seems as 

115 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



though I had been introduced to the 
angelic host, and they was sayin’, 
'Hiram, here’s a bad job, but the 
man’s worth savin’, and perhaps if you 
help us we’ll get him on solid ground.’ 
Isn’t that wonderful?. I tell you, 
parson, it ain’t no mere duty to do a 
day’s work of that kind, with the Lord 
God on your right hand; it’s one of 
the transfigurin’ privileges of life.” 

"Let me remind you, Hiram, that I 
referred to that matter in my sermon. 
I said that to love God is not to be 
classed among our duties.” 

"Yes, and my heart warmed to you, 
parson. That song ought to be sung 
116 




FEW DUTIES 

on the hill-tops. A man must be a 
wretched sort of creeter whose love 
for his own Father is an act of duty. 
’Twasn’t so with Christ, and it ought 
not to be so with us. When I gave 
Jack the errand-boy a slice of frosted 
cake the other day — it was Marthy’s 
baking — you should have seen his 
face. He hadn’t had no sech piece of 
cake for a month, perhaps. He just 
glowed with happiness. Was it from 
any poor, little, miserable sense of 
duty that he looked up at me and said, 
‘Thank you, Mr. Golf’? No more’n 
it was a sense of duty that made him 
enjoy eatin’ it. He ate it because he 
117 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

liked it, and that 'thank you’ tumbled 
from his lips as naterally as the rain 
falls. 

"Now then, I am indebted to God 
for all I have here, and for all I expect 
in the hereafter. He must give me 
these things, or I shall never get ’em. 
No money can buy ’em, and if it 
could, I haven’t got the money. So 
there I am. He sent His Son to teach 
me how to live and tell me how to die. 
He is with me when it’s dark and the 
stars are all shut out, and then, havin’ 
allowed me to be in His company for 
fifty year, tells me He wants me to 
live with Him forever. After that, 
and with them facts starin’ me in the 







FEW DUTIES 


face, do you ask me to love and trust 
Him from a sense of duty? Am I 
worse than the errand-boy, that I can’t 
say 'thank you’ right out of my heart? 
Why, parson, it would be an insult to 
my soul to preach sech a doctrine to 
me. I brush duty aside, as havin’ 
nothin’ to do with the matter, and 
count it a mighty privilege to go 
through life with my poor tremblin’ 
hand in His.” 

John looked at the shoemaker with 
an approving glance, and he went on : 

"Now, there’s my Marthy — she’s 
layin’ the table for dinner. That 
dear woman has cheered and blessed 
my life. Jest see that face, parson! 

119 




9 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

It’s old and it’s wrinkled; but she’s 
always young and beautiful to me. 
Now then, parson, the man who 
has sech a wife as that — well, 
there ain’t no use talkin’, for words 
can’t tell the story. She’s gone up- 
hill and downhill with me since I was 
twenty-three year old, and we’ve had 
to travel over some ruther rugged 
ground. Does any one say that my 
lovin’ Mar thy is a duty? Nonsense! 
I won’t listen to it. Is it my duty — 
most intolerable word! — to sacrifice 
my comfort for her when she’s sick, 
and spend whole nights watchin’ at 
her side and prayin’ that she will get 
well? Duty, parson? I can’t help 
120 


FEW DUTIES 


it. It’s my greatest pleasure, and I 
couldn’t drag myself away at such a 
time. It ain’t no hardship to go hun- 
gry or to get tired for her sake, if I can 
only see the light returnin’ to them 
eyes, and the smile cornin’ back after 
days of sufferin’. 

‘‘To my mind, religion is jest like 
the sunshine that ripens the corn. A 
man can find all he wants in religion, 
and he can’t find it nowhere else. 

“But see! Marthy is callin’ us, 
and the dinner is ready. We haven’t 
much to offer, but if your appetite is 
whetted by this keen air we’ll enjoy 
what there is. Parson, will you ask a 
blessin’ ?” 


121 


IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


After a rather lugubrious ‘‘Good- 
evenin’, Marthy Golf,” Cynthia Grif- 
fin laid her sun-bonnet on the table 
and sat down with an air of general 
weariness. She had pretty nearly 
everything that is absolutely neces- 
sary to human happiness, but seemed 
to think it a duty to be miserable. 
Tom, her husband, was a good- 
natured fellow, who did not go to 
church as often as he should, partly, I 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


fear, because his anxious wife con- 
stantly reminded him that he and she 
and all the rest of mankind had 
nothing to fear so much as the terrors 
of the Lord. He unconsciously rea- 
soned with himself that if there was 
no hope for the future he might as 
well have as good a time as possible 
in the present life. A well-to-do 
workman, with two dollars a day, he 
had a cozy little house of his own, a 
small mortgage on it of four hundred 
dollars, and a couple of children who 
chirped when he came home like a 
couple of young thrushes. 

Cynthia had a saturnine tempera- 
ment. That was not her fault, but it 
123 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



was certainly a great misfortune. 
She had a fixed habit of always look- 
ing for and dwelling on the dark side 
— was one of that class of Christians 
who make their religion as disagreeable 
and discouraging as possible, the class 
who prefer a drizzling rain to sun- 
shine. If you said to her, ''Cynthia, 
it’s a lovely day,” she would instantly 
reply, "Yes, but it’s brewin’ a storm.” 
She never quite managed to get the 
feeling into her heart that God is our 
Father; she was afraid of Him, and 
lived in constant expectation of some 
calamity. The Lord’s Prayer did not 
convey any idea to her mind, but some 
of the Psalms of David stimulated her 


V 


124 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


imagination and at the same time de- 
pressed her. Her faith, if the word 
can be properly used in such cases, was 
of the somber sort, which tends to 
make the conscientious timid and 
heavy-hearted, and all others indiffer- 
ent. 

She had so often reminded Tom 
that life is nothing but a vale of tears, 
that he went altogether too frequently 
to the corner saloon to drown his grief ] “ 
over the fact. He would regard it as 
presumption to contradict her, for was 
not she a member of the church, while 
he was a brand not yet plucked from 
the burning? He had long ago 
begun to feel that religion and per- 


125 


HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 


sonal discomfort are as closely allied 
as cause and effect. He was willing 
to admit that religion is absolutely 
necessary, but regarded it as some- 
thing to be postponed to old age, 
when the tombstones in the church- 
yard become unpleasantly suggestive. 

When Cynthia had ensconced her- 
self in an arm-chair, Martha placed by 
her side a glass of fresh milk and some 
^crullers. She enjoyed the little colla- 
tion, and munched the crullers with a 
keen appetite, but could not quite re- 
press the feeling that enjoyment of 
any kind was to some extent sinful. 
She managed, however, to dispose of 
both crullers and milk, and then took 
126 





IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 

out her knitting with the air of one 
who has committed a misdeed, and 
after a long-drawn sigh made her 
usual remark about the vale of tears. 

Hiram had taken in the scene from 
his shoemaker’s bench, and seemed to 
enjoy it. He chuckled to himself as 
he drove in the next half dozen pegs, 
but could not help saying : 

''Cynthy, was that milk sour?” 

‘'Why, Hiram, it was jest as sweet i i 
as could be,” was the reply. 

“And was the crullers to your taste, 
Cynthy? I hope Mar thy hasn’t been 
passin’ off any of day-before-yester- 
day’s crullers on a neighbor.” 

“They was jest splendid, Hiram. 

127 




HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 


[ Cooked this mornin’, wasn’t they, 
* Marthy 

The housewife nodded, and her 
^ mouth twitched quizzically, for she 
was accustomed to Hiram’s peculiar- 
ities. 

‘'Got the dyspepsy, Cynthy?” per- 
sisted Hiram. 

“Not as I know of; why, Hiram?” 

“ ’Cos the minute you swallered 
; them things they seemed to disagree 
with you, and you said that eatin’ 
crullers and drinkin’ sweet milk was 
a vale of tears.” 

“No, Hiram Golf, I didn’t mean 
that, and you know I didn’t; but I 
think it’s always well to keep in mind 



128 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


’ that the enjoyments of this life is jest 
vanity of vanities, that’s all.” 

“’Tain’t so, Cynthy, ’tain’t so. 
That sentiment ain’t founded in 
fact, and it ain’t authorized by the 
Lord. There’s no use to put on a pair 
of blue spectacles to look at the gifts 
of God with.” 

The poor woman was startled, and 
came very near dropping a stitch. 

"'When I hear you talkin’ in that 
way, Cynthy,” resumed Hiram, "I 
wonder if some fatal accident has hap- 
pened to the Holy Spirit that I don’t 
know nothin’ about. A vale of tears? 
Wall, yes, it is to some people, but to 
the soul that is in Christ, and feels as 
129 




HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 




^safe as your baby does when it is in 
>your arms, the world is so full of 
'beauty and gladness that we can’t see 
^no end to ’em. 

‘'Now, Cynthy,” and Hiram took 
up another shoe and examined it care- 
fully, "you think too much about your 
poor miserable self, and too little about 
God. I’ve knowed you for a long ten 
year, and nobody can say but you’re a 
[ good woman and a good mother. 
Why are you always afraid that some- 
thin’ will happen to God so He can’t 
do what He says He will^ That’s 
what ails you, and it’s jest as much a 
disease as the mumps, and it’s about as 
painful.” 


130 


IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


At that moment, under cover of the 
darkness, a forlorn, haggard-looking 
tramp came up the steps, hat in hand. 
He was a woe-begone creature, young 
in years, old in experience, and his 
glance was furtive, like that of a 
hunted animal who expected the dogs 
to pounce upon him at any moment. 

‘'Mister, will you give me some- 
thing to eat?” he half whispered. 

^ ‘Tm dreadful hungry.” 

V “Wall, my boy,” said Hiram, after 
surveying him for a moment, “you do 
look as though you’d had a rough 
time. Here, sit down. Hungry, be 
ye ? Come, Marthy, bustle round 
and get a slice of that cold ham we had 

131 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


for dinner”— the tramp’s eyes opened 
wide — ''and bring a nice bowl of 
bread-and-milk.” The tramp appar- 
ently thought he had suddenly en- 
tered a suburb of Paradise. 

He was really half famished, and 
bolted the food with the feeling that 
the plate, and the ham, and Hiram, 
and the wife might disappear at any 
instant, and leave him in the wilder- 
I’ness from which he had just emerged. 

The shoemaker sat looking at him. 
What was there about this forlorn 
wretch which recalled a robbery that 
had been committed two days before 
in Green Meadow? Was it that the 
tramp was all ablaze with the crime, 



132 


IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


and a sensitive nature like Hiram’s 
could smell the smoke thereof? The 
transmission of thought is a mystery, 
but also a fact. Hiram was im- 
pressed with that idea, and a great 
pity filled his heart. '‘Perhaps,” he 
thought, “that younglin’ has a mother 
who is at this very minute lookin’ out 
of the winder and wonderin’ where 
her boy is wanderin’ ; or perhaps there 
is a father who would give all he owns 
to save his wayward child.” Hiram’s 
eyes became moist. 

“That was a sad affair at Green 
Meadow on Tuesday, wasn’t it?” he 
remarked casually. 

The tramp dropped the piece of 

133 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



bread he held in his hand, and stared 
at the speaker. The bullet had hit 
the mark, and you could hear the im- 
pact as it struck. 

"‘Yes, you must know about it,” he 
continued. “It’s the talk of all the 
country round. He broke into a 
house, they say, and carried off some 
money which the poor farmer had laid 
up for a rainy day. But that money 
won’t do the robber no good. It’ll 
burn a hole in his pockets, I reckon.” 

The tramp’s eyes turned restlessly 
from one person to another. “Do 
they know what I know?” he seemed 
to be saying to himself. “Will they 
inform on me? The old man’s a 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


' cripple, and I could master him easily 
enough. But if these two women 
should scream ! The woods are a 
mile and a half away, and I should 
have to run for it.” He looked at 
Martha and at Cynthia with a quick, 
inquiring glance. His appetite was 
gone. Another mouthful of that ham 
would have choked him. Did he 
tremble with cold? No, the evening 
was warm, and the wind was from the 
south. Then his chest heaved and 
his lips quivered, and he could hardly 
contain himself. An expression of 
agony stole over his face, and he 
moved restlessly in the chair. 

‘‘Fm sorry for that young man,” 



135 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


said Hiram. ''I ruther guess he must 
have had a great temptation, and 
couldn’t resist it. It’s so much better, 
though, to be honest. Money that’s 
earned is all right; money that’s stolen 
ain’t no good. Then, maybe, the rob- 
ber was hungry, jest as you are. The 
world had gone terrible hard with 
him — who knows? Perhaps he tried 
to get work and failed. Now he’ll be 
caught and go to jail, and the old ' 
home with the father and mother in 
it—” 

That seemed to be too much for the 
tramp. He reached down, got his 
fingers on his slouch hat, sprang like a 
frightened doe from the veranda, 
136 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


and disappeared in the darkness. 
Hiram’s specters were giving him 
chase. The chair was empty, the 
food was only half eaten, and a groan 
filled the air. 

Hiram said sadly, ‘1 wasn’t mis- 
took.” Then he turned to Cynthia, 
who had noticed the proceedings with 
something like terror, and remarked, 
‘'Cynthy, you are quite right; under 
certain circumstances this life is a vale 
of tears, and it can’t be made nothin’ 
else. I reckon it’s about that to the 
poor feller who couldn’t stop to eat his 
vittles. But is it God’s fault, 
Cynthy, or is it his own? Did God 
make it a vale of tears, or is it the 



137 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


devil’s work? That’s what I want to 
know. It’s sin in the heart that makes 
life a failure. There ain’t no stars in 
the sky for that tramp; it’s a thun- 
derin’ and light’nin’ all the time. I 
shouldn’t blame him one bit if he was 
to sigh, jest as you do, and talk about 
the terrors of the Lord. He’ll find 
’em all out before he gets through. 
’Tain’t in natur that he should sleep 
^easy. He’s travelin’ a boggy road, | ' 
and will bring up with a broken axle vl 
after a while. But what business 
have you, with a house, a husband and 
children, and trust in the Lord, what 
business have you to go whimperin’ 
along as though you was out in a 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


drivin’ rain without no umbrella, and 
no hope of reachin’ a shelter?” 

Fifteen minutes later John Jessig 
joined the little company. 

'Tm not making visits at this time 
of night, Hiram,” he said, ‘‘but I 
heard your cheery voice as I was 
passing, and concluded to stop in for 
a bit. What a beautiful night it is! 
One of the nights when the ‘heavens 
declare the glory of God and the fir- 
mament showeth His handiwork.’ I 
think I never saw so many stars be- 
fore. They are at a mass meeting, I 
imagine, and there’s hardly room for 
them all.” 

“Yes, I’ve been watchin’ ’em,” re- 



139 


HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 



sponded Hiram. 'It’s one of them 
nights when a man can’t hold himself 
in. He feels so small and insignifi- 
cant, and he wants to say so much 
that he hain’t got words to express. 
It reminds me of the time when Zadok 
anointed Solomon king, and when 
'the people piped with pipes, and re- 
joiced with great joy, so that the earth 
rent with the sound of them.’ I tell 
you, parson. I’d like to be at that 
meetin’ of the stars up yonder, for 
I’m chock full of rejoicin’. I’m 
thankful for pretty near everythin’, 
includin’ my rheumatism. I don’t 
see how folks can grumble at the Lord 
on such a night as this. It makes 



140 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


such a grand picter of where we’re 
goin’ to be.” 

“Religion,” said John, “is certainly 
intended to make us contented with 
our lot.” 

“That’s jest what I’ve been tellin’ 
Cynthy here. When a man’s religion 
don’t make him cheerful, he’s got 
hold of the wrong bottle. He’d 
better break it, and get another 
one.” 

“Wall, it seems to me, Hiram,” 
broke in Cynthia, “that you haven’t 
sech a great sight to boast about. 
You’re only a poor man anyhow, 
and—” 

“A poor man, am I? I tell you. 



141 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

Cynthy Griffin, I’m one of the richest 
men in the world.” 

'‘Oh, you be, Hiram! I didn’t 
know it, and I guess there’s lots of 
other folks that don’t know it too.” 
There was something contemptuous 
in her tones. 

"Yes, indeed I’m rich. Look at the 
sky up there! Ain’t that mine'? 
Don’t I have the use of it while I 
live?’ 

"Maybe, Hiram, but I shouldn’t say 
I owned it unless I had a better title 
than you have.” 

"No, I don’t exactly own it, but 
then my Father owns it, and what my 
Father owns I have a right to enjoy.” 
142 






IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 

Cynthia began to knit very vigor- 
ously. After rocking back and forth 
with some violence, she tossed her 
head in the air, and remarked, ‘'Seems 
to me, that you’re talkin’ nonsense, 
Hiram.” Then she looked with a 
side glance at John for corroboration. 

“And I own the Cheroquee,” con- 
tinued Hiram, “and can fill myself 
full of the scenery along its banks all 
the year round; and I own the whole 
range of hills over yonder that the 
sun creeps behind every afternoon. I 
watch the crimson glory of God siftin’ 
through the trees, and lift my eyes to 
the clouds that drop down the west 
like a veil over the face of a bride, and 



143 



vIV 


HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

can’t hardly contain myself. ‘The 
earth and the fullness thereof’ is a 
part of my inheritance. No matter 
how many dollars I might have, I 
couldn’t buy as much scenery as I own 
now as a free gift.” 

The minister nodded approval. 
He never interrupted the shoemaker 
when he was in such a mood as this. 
On the contrary, he felt that the pupil 
|;was teaching the teacher, and was 
gratefully silent. 

“Besides all that,” said Hiram, 
aglow with his own thoughts, and 
speaking with the eloquence of one of 
Israel’s prophets, “I’ve got this little 
144 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? ^ 

home, and a grown-up boy who is 
doin’ well out in Montana, and all 
the work I can do and all the clothes 
I want to wear — two whole suits for 
every day and an extra nice one for 
Sundays — and all the vittles I can 
eat. I ain’t never too hot in summer, 
for there’s always a breeze cornin’ 
across the river, jest like now; and I 
ain’t cold in winter, because I can 
crawl up close to the stove. Now 
what more can any reasonable man 
ask for?” 

‘Td like to try my hand at askin’,” 
sneered Cynthia, ‘"if there was any 
use in it, but I s’pose there ain’t.” 


HS 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

‘'Them is only the beginnin’ of my 
possessions/’ continued Hiram, with- 
out heeding. 

“Oh, there’s more, is there?” and 
Cynthia shrugged her shoulders. 
“More of the same sort, I reckon.” 

“In the last will and testament of 
my Saviour,” said Hiram, “I’m made 
legal heir to the immortal life. That 
Vjy dockiment is very vallible to me. ‘In 
'[ I ^My Father’s house,’ He says, ‘are 
"W many mansions. I go to prepare a 
I place for you.’ So I’ve got a place 
here, and a place there ; a house on the 
earth, and a home in heaven. This 
great gift is deeded to me, and guar- 
146 





IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


anteed. The title to it can’t be dis- 
puted in no court.” 

“I should say you was one of them 
visionaries,” curtly broke in Cynthia. 

‘If I get down-hearted, a Voice 
says, ‘Let not your heart be troubled.’ 
I listen, and listen, and listen, and by 
and by it says again, ‘I will be with 
you alway, even to the end of the 
world.’ God and me ! Can you 
reckon up how much that is worth? 

“Now then, parson, I ask you this 
plain question: Ain’t religion some- 
times like magic? It does the impos- 
sible, and gives us the one thing we 
want more than anythin’ else. 



147 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

There’s so much to it that once in a 
while I’m afraid I’ll wake up and find 
I’ve been dreamin’. And when I do 
wake up, it’s bigger, and broader, and 
higher, and more glorious than ever. 
I begin to laugh when I begin to cry, 
for it turns all my groanin’ into praise. 
Jest think of it! All these things ac- 
tually belong to me, and nobody can’t 
dispossess me. They belong to jest 
me, Hiram Golf, shoemaker by the 
grace of God, and at present livin’ in 
the little manufacturin’ village of 
Woodbine, with heaven in full view 
from my cottage winder.” 

The spell of Hiram’s voice, and the 
profound earnestness with which he 
148 




IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 


spoke, charmed even Cynthia into 
silence, while the parson’s eyes and 
heart were both full. 

"‘Why,” cried Hiram, “Fve got so 
much ahead of me that I’m almost 
dizzy with gratitude! It is so won- 
derful, so unexpected, so undeserved! 
Don’t you think I can walk a little 
while on this poor crutch, when I look 
forward to a new body, a new life, 
I renewed youth, and the splendor of 
y God, which no eye can bear? Shall 

D • • 

“ I grumble at the small inconveniences 
of this present time? No, parson; 
no, Cynthy ! With every peg I drive 
into a shoe I cry, ‘Glory, glory!’ 
When. I close my tired eyes at night, 



149 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



I say to myself, ‘The journey is nearin’ 
its end, and then — ah, then!’ 

“That’s what I call religion. I’ve 
got only a taste of it on the tip of my 
tongue; but what will it be when I 
drink it as the thirsty traveler drinks 
from the bucket at the well? I only 
see a corner of the battlements; but 
how shall I feel when I ‘hold them in 
full survey’?” 

Then, as though he could bear it 
no longer, or as though language had 
failed to express his thoughts, he 
caught up his crutch, and, beating 
time with it, broke into song. The 
hymn was a familiar one, and at the 
third line John joined him. At the 



IS IT A VALE OF TEARS? 



second verse even Cynthia caught the 
glorious infection, and her thin and 
piping voice was added. 

It was a revelation. ‘"Out of the 
mouths and babes and sucklings,” you 
would have said if you had passed by 
at that moment. Religion ! It is 
the gift of gifts, the legerdemain of 
life. It doubles our joys, and light- 
ens our burdens. The secret of all 
happiness is in its hands. The low-j; 
liest life is made radiant by it, for 
under its benign influence poverty 
forgets itself and drudgery becomes 
endurable. 

As John went home that night he 
felt that he had been in goodly com- 

151 




HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

pany, and that the ministry of the 
Gospel is the grandest work in which 
the mind and heart of man can engage. 




152 





VI 


A LITTLE MAN SAVIN SOULS 

There is a providence in all the 
incidents of human life. Unseen 
hands lead us, and invisible eyes 
watch for an opportunity to afford the 
assistance we need. No man works 
alone. His apparent solitude is peo- 
pled with a delegation from the an- 
gelic host, who stand ready to lift 
him up when he stumbles, and direct 
him when he is confused. Sometimes 
a casual word uttered by a stranger or 





HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 

a neighbor is the golden key to unlock 
the problem that has puzzled us, or it 
may be a look, or a smile, or a tear. 
Chance? Coincidence? No, it is 
God’s guardian care. He who notes 
the sparrow’s fall is not unmindful of 
a pain in our hearts or a doubt in our 
minds. 

John Jessig had received a call, and 
his little household was filled with 
excitement. The call was a very flat- 
tering incident, and neither John nor 
any one else, in the pulpit or out of it, 
can be wholly indifferent to a matter 
of that kind. He pondered deeply, 
took a long walk across the fields, tell- 



154 


^SAVIN’ SOULS’’ 



ing this great secret over and over 
again to his soul, while his face glowed 
with appreciation of the compliment 
implied, then stood for a full hour on 
the bridge which spans the Cheroquee, 
thinking, thinking, but reaching no 
conclusion. 

A more important parish, from a 
worldly point of view, had expressed 
the unanimous desire to obtain his 
services. He would have a much 
larger salary, for the people in Wood- 
bine were poor, and he was sometimes 
pinched. Besides this, he would have 
an opportunity to make himself better 
known — a factor in the problem which 



155 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

appealed to his personal ambition. 
Woodbine was in a corner, but the 
new church was on a hill-top. 

‘'Shouldn’t a man make the most of 
himself?” reasoned John. “Isn’t it 
right, nay, isn’t it a duty, to preach the 
Gospel in a place where the thunder- 
ous reverberations will be heard 
throughout a wide area?” 

But he hesitated. A thousand con- 
j ■ flicting emotions, some laudable and T 
others not so praiseworthy, chased v 
each other through his mind. A sol- 
emn question had fallen to his lot, and 
its solution could not be long delayed. 
The committee who had visited him 
had quoted the passage about hiding 

156 


‘‘SAVIN’ SOULS’ 



one’s light under a bushel, had inti- 
mated that a much less gifted man 
would serve the purpose in Wood- 
bine, had candidly declared that the 
new parish would open up a very 
much larger field, and that he had 
been accounted just the man to do 
brave work there. 

If his pulse ran up into the nineties, 
need we wonder? There is a good 
deal to be said on both sides of such a 
subject, and John may be excused if 
he walked up and down that rickety 
bridge looking for light. At last, in 
utter confusion of heart, he sauntered 
along the narrow street leading to the 
village, knocked at Hiram’s door, was 


157 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

warmly welcomed as usual, and took 
a seat in the dingy shop. 

"Tarson,” began Hiram, ‘'there is 
too many Christians who are anxious 
to do somethin’ great for God, and too 
few who are willin’ to do somethin’ 
little.” 

That was a strange chord to strike 
at such a time, and John simply looked 
(|l*y the interrogation he *could not utter. 
; T “Yes,” continued Hiram, as he 
W drove the pegs with unwonted rapid- 
I ity, “the hardest work a man ever does 
is to glorify the little things of life.” 

John became thoughtful. “You 
have hold of a mighty puzzle, Hi- 
ram,” he said at length. “A great en- 
158 





‘‘SAVIN’ SOULS” 

terprise evolves great courage and 
makes great deeds possible, but I 
sometimes think that a man is just as 
acceptable to God if he is contented 
with a narrow lot and fills it full of 
the riches of Christ.” 

“Parson,” said Hiram, laying his 
hammer on his lap and looking at 
John with an earnest gaze, “if you 
could make the people believe that, 
you’d fetch the millennium along in 
about two weeks. They can’t see it, 
though — not yet.” 

“If I wanted to organize a band of 
missionaries,” John continued, “to go 
to some distant spot on the earth where 
they would encounter untold dangers, 



159 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


and possibly give their lives for the 
cause, I could — ” 

‘"Wall,” broke in Hiram, ‘‘you 
could recruit a large number within a 
stone’s-throw of my workbench.” 

“I think I know at least a dozen de- 
voted people who would be glad of 
the opportunity.” 

“That’s so, parson. But if you 
want ’em to check their tempers for 
God’s sake, and wash the dishes with 
salvation in view, they would toss 
their heads in the air. Human natur 
is laborin’ under a great mistake. Men 
and women is willin’ to die for the 
Lord, but somehow they’re not ready 
to live for Him. You can get folks 
160 




"SAVIN’ SOULS" 


enough to risk everythin’ for the Lord 
under extraordinary circumstances 
who can’t make up their minds to live 
for Him under circumstances that is 
only ordinary. In my jedgment, the 
best test of man’s conversion is found 
in the way he handles the drudgery of 
every day. If he can stand up aginst 
that and hold his own, he can stand up 
aginst anythin’ that’s likely to come. 

‘‘Now then, take my shoemakin’ for 
an example. ‘ ’Tain’t much,’ says the 
world. ‘Hiram Golf don’t amount 
to nothin’ anyway.’ But if I do it 
with the feelin’ that God is sayin’ to 
me, ‘Hiram, I have sot you to makin’ 
shoes, and I want you to make ’em 
i6i 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


good; don’t put no paper in the soles, 
for the sake of a little extra profit; and 
see that your uppers is well tanned — 
do that, and I’ll see that you get to 
heaven,’ if I work with that in mind, 
ain’t I a pretty good-sized man in the 
sight of the angels? 

‘‘Every time I pull a thread I want 
to say to myself, ‘There! that stitch 
will hold; I’ve put my religion into it.’ 
And every time I drive a peg I try to 
drive it home so it’ll stay in place. I 
want to feel that I can look at the man 
who wears them shoes without makin’ 
no excuses for myself. The sole and 
the upper must be jined together like 
a man and wife in marriage, and a 
162 


"SAVIN’ SOULS” 

divorce in muddy weather is entirely 
out of the question.” 

"I see what you mean, Hiram,” said 
John, "and I entirely agree with you. 
It is more important to do little things 
well than to waste time in hunting for 
some great thing that can’t be found.” 

"Yes, parson, and more reel reli- 
gion in bakin’ a loaf of sweet bread 
than in goin’ to a church meetin’ and 
lettin’ the bread get sour. The Chris- 
tianity of a clean, wholesome, and 
well-regulated home is of more conse- 
quence than most folks thinks. The 
general notion is that religion is up in 
the air, among the clouds, but I don’t 
believe it, and I don’t read my Bible 
163 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


that way. My kind of religion don’t | 
scuttle out of sight at sundown on 
Sunday evenin’, come back again for [ 
an hour or two to the Wednesday ^ 
prayer-meetin’, and then disappear 
until the church-bells ring on the next 
Sunday mornin’. All that is a de- 
lusion and a snare. No religion is 
wuth havin’ unless a man sticks to it 
in a horse trade, or when he’s paintin’ 
a barn; and if a professor sands his ^ 
sugar and waters his milk, he’s goin’ 
to have a tough time when certain un- 
fort’nate questions is asked by the 
Lord.” 

‘‘I sometimes think,” said John, as 
though talking to himself — ‘1 some- 
164 



‘^SAVIN’ SOULS” 

times think that in the Providence of 
God there is nothing small, that every- 
thing is great.” 

‘‘YouVe not fur off from the truth, 
parson. Now, excuse me if I am per- 
sonal; I don’t mean no disrespect, and 
you won’t feel offended. Take your- 
self, for instance. You are a young 
man, and you are preachin’ in a little 
manufacturin’ village that couldn’t 
be seen on a map without a microscope. 
In the eyes of the world you ain’t of 
no consequence whatever. Your field 
is a narrer one, and although you’re 
a faithful pastor you haven’t anythin’ 
like fame. Nobody beyond the hills 
ever heard of you, and I don’t care 

165 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


much whether they ever do hear of 
you. 

“You’re a little man in a little 
place. But, my dear son,” the shoe- 
maker’s eyes glistened with excite- 
ment, “you are savin’ souls. You 
worked over poor Bill Handy till you 
dragged him away from his cups. 
You’re the friend of every workin’- 
man in the mills ; you went to the em- 
^ ployers in the last strike, when things 
was red-hot, and we was on the edge 
of a revolution — ^persuaded them to 
make certain concessions in the name 
of justice and fair play, and ever since 
matters has gone on smooth and 
proper. 



166 


^SAVIN’ SOULS’’ 


‘‘A little man in a little place, savin’ 
souls ! A little man in a little place, 
makin’ things clean and wholesome! 
People can’t see us, we are so hidden 
away. No matter. Who cares? 
When you get to heaven, them elo- 
quent ministers who have preached in 
large cities to big congregations will 
look at you and say, 'Hullo, little 
man, where do you hail from?’ 

I They’ll make your acquaintance for]! 
y the fust time, but my word for it, John 
Jessig, they’ll be glad to know you. 

"When the Lord comes along and 
looks over His Kingdom, do you think 
He’s goin’ to pay special attention to 
them famous men and neglect you? 
167 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

He will say to them, 'Show me what 
you’ve done down there in the city, 
where you had a nice house, and a fine 
library, and all the comforts of life’ ; 
and He’ll say to you, 'John Jessig, I 
put you down there by the Cheroquee 
River, because there was work to be 
done among those mill hands.’ It 
won’t do, parson, for them ministers 
to put on airs. They’ve got to show 
results, and you’ve got to do the same. 

"A soul in New York ain’t wuth no 
more than a soul in Woodbine. A 
rich man’s soul ain’t wuth no more 
than a shoemaker’s soul, or a black- 
smith’s soul. A soul is a soul, the 
world over, and if you’ve saved one 


168 



"SAVIN’ SOULS’ 


the Lord won’t ask whether it lived on 
the back street or up on the avenue. 

“There ain’t nothin’ small that 
God condescends to look at. His 
lookin’ at it makes it great.” 

John became excited, and his hands 
trembled. He thought he heard the 
voice of the Lord in that conversation. 
He looked at Hiram with indescrib- 
able tenderness. It is a marvelous 
thing to see a man on fire, and the 
shoemaker was all ablaze. He had 
unconsciously reduced human motives 
to their last analysis, had proven to 
himself and to John that the small 
duties of life are important, and he 
seemed to be filled with the divine 
169 





HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

fury of that eloquence of which every 
earnest man is capable in supreme 
moments. 

Then John shook Hiram’s hand 
warmly, and said, “Hiram, it is al- 
ways great to live near to God. One 
never feels small when heaven is the 
price to be paid for his work. It makes 
no difference where a man is placed, 
y iV If he gathers his golden sheaf of ripe 
[ A carries it to the Gate, he is 

w sure of a welcome. What more can 
I he ask? 

“I have sometimes grown despond- 
ent, situated as I am in this out-of- 
the-way village, but you have cheered 
and helped me. It isn’t the size of 
170 





"SAVIN’ SOULS” 


the field we till, but the work we put 
into it, that is important. A large 
soul makes everything large. It is a 
great lesson to learn, and I think I 
have learned it. The dear Lord is 
here as well as elsewhere, and if we 
are in His company what matters it 
that we are deprived of other things? 
I am willing to seem small to men, if 
the Lord will not think me so. Good- 
night, my dear brother.” 

When John reached home he said 
quietly, ''Mary, I’ve been thinking 
about that call.” 

"Yes, John?” 

"And have concluded to stay here 
in Woodbine.” 



171 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


Mary put her arms about her hus- 
band’s neck, and said, “I’m glad of it, 
John. We’ve been very happy here.” 


VII 


FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 

No man can ever know how many’ 
friends he has until he is either sick or‘ 
dying. The tender regard or the ro-, 
bust respect which may exist through- j 
out the community seems to keep un-j 
der cover, as though it were evidence' 
of weakness to show itself until some-^ 
thing unexpected or extraordinary] 
happens, and then it suddenly blos- 
soms into manifestation with touching’ 
and pathetic eagerness. While one is^ 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



in health and vigorously making him- 
self felt by his fellowmen, he is en- 
tirely unconscious that he is held in 
such affection that no plummet can 
sound its depth ; but when the unfore- 
seen occurs, and he drops out of the 
competitive struggle, it breaks forth 
like sunshine on an April day. 

Hiram Golf was a more important 
element of village life in Woodbine 
than either he or any one else dreamed. 
His value was discovered only after 
his exit. He passed most of his time 
in quiet seclusion, and never intruded 
his counsel. But on every public oc- 
casion he rose to leadership by the 
force of social gravitation. His 


174 


FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


strong common sense, his absolute fair- 
ness of judgment, his lack of mere 
fanaticism, his personal independence 
and the rather reckless manner in 
which he asserted it, his boldness in 
criticising both men and measures, 
made him a marked man. No debate 
was concluded until his voice had 
been heard, for he had a pungent way 
of stating a case, and a forceful 
though somewhat rude eloquence, 
which threw him to the front in every 
emergency. 

Of course he had enemies. Opin- 
ions are not worth much unless they 
kindle opposition, and men who see 
things from circumference to center, 

175 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



and tell their thoughts with perfect 
frankness, are likely to be misunder- 
stood. Some called him a crank, and 
ventured to protest against his free- 
dom of speech. Others attributed to 
him, during the heat of discussion, 
motives which he would have dis- 
dained to cherish. 

And of course he had friends, a mul- 
titude, both in Woodbine and among 
the angelic host, for he was a manly 
man, with a conscience as well as a 
brain. The poor people adored him, 
for his unobtrusive charity had stood 
them in good stead in many a pinching 
hour of need. Had he and they lived 
in the olden time and in the suburbs 




FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


of ancient Athens, they would have 
regarded him as a blood relation of 
the gods on high Olympus, for there 
was a dignity in his utterance and a 
latent authority in his advice which 
were like a hand of iron in a glove of 
velvet. 

It was generally conceded that, 
though somewhat eccentric, he was a 
man of ideas; that he was in deadly 
earnest both in his work and in his 
religion; and that he lived like one 
who was engaged in the inspiring task 
of laying up treasures in heaven with 
the full belief that his books would be 
carefully examined and his future de- 
cided by the accountant’s verdict. 



177 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

He asked nothing except an honest 
laborer’s wages for the present life 
and a grass-plot in the graveyard 
when his toil was ended, looked every 
one squarely in the face, and had noth- 
ing to conceal. In other words, he 
was the happy possessor of that 
omnipotent and magical something 
known as character. 

Hiram, the shoemaker, was one of 
1 ^God’s noblemen; and when Death, 
^ with unwilling footsteps, walked 
I across that little veranda, on which his 
victim had sat during so many sum- 
mer evenings with a kindly word for 
every passer-by, and knocked at the 
kitchen door, he seemed sorry that he 
178 




FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


had to perform so unwelcome a duty. 
Yes, Death felt that he had a mourn- 
ful task, and hesitated. 

But Hiram, as he lay on his couch, 
received this strange visitor with the 
affable courtesy of a Christian. He 
wanted to live a little longer, because, 
as he said to John Jessig, there were 
some things which he would like to 
attend to personally. ''But still,” he 
added, with a languid smile, "if the 
V Lord has made different arrangements 
it’s all right, and He will find some 
one else to look after these matters.” 

\Vhen Jonas Crimp, a wood-cutter, 
blind of one eye, with a wife and four 
children dependent upon him, called 
179 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


at the Golf cottage and insisted upon 
seeing Hiram, because it might be the 
last time, as he told Martha, the suf- 
ferer heard his voice and cried, ‘'Let 
him come in, wife.” 

The poor fellow brushed away a 
tear with his rough and calloused 
hand as he said, “Hiram, you made a 
man of me. I was gone in drink, and 
the children was well-nigh starvin’. I 
felt a coldness at my heart, for the 
world was on top of me, holdin’ me 
down, and I got desperate. Never a 
kind word from any one but you, Hi- 
ram. They all let go of me, and I 
don’t blame ’em; but you hung on, and 
here I am on my feet again.” 



180 



FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


Hiram’s eyes lighted up. His lips 
trembled, and so did his voice. 
‘'When I get up yonder, Jonas,” he 
whispered, “may I tell ’em what you 
say? May I ask ’em to send some 
investigatin’ angel down to Woodbine 
to call on you, Jonas Crimp? for I 
may need to prove that I have not 
been an unprofitable servant. I shall 
be there to-morrow, or the next day, 
Jonas, and if I can tell the Lord what 
you say it will be a great comfort.” 

Two hours later, during which he 
had slept restlessly, he exclaimed, 
“Oh, what a blessed thing it is to do 
good!” He was still thinking of 
Jonas, and the wood-cutter’s words 



i8i 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

were ringing in his heart like a chime 
of bells. ''Oh, what a privilege to 
bring a soul out of darkness into 
light!” He looked upward with en- 
raptured glance, as though the ceiling 
and the roof had disappeared and he 
were gazing at the starry heavens. 
"To be able to do God a real service !” 
he murmured. "To be a co-worker 
with Christ! To preach to the lost, 
the lost, the lost, until their sins are 
blotted out by tears of repentance! 
Ah, parson,” and he turned to John, 
who sat by his side, "that makes life 
worth livin’.” 

He was exhausted by the effort, 
and, turning on his side, fell once 



182 




FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


more into slumber. But his lips still 
moved, and a smile played about 
them, as though he were listening 
again to what Jonas had said. 

When John took Hiram’s poor, 
thin hand in his, and in a voice broken 
by emotion repeated the words of 
David, '' ‘Though I walk through the 
valley of the shadow of death, I will 
fear no evil,’ ” the patient sufferer 
finished the quotation: “ Tor Thou 
art with me,’ ” and there he hesitated 
for an instant. Then he began again, 
“ Tor thou art with me; Thy rod and 
Thy staff they comfort me.’ Yes, 
parson,” he added, “I have often 
thought of this hour, and wondered 

183 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


how I should stand the ordeal. You | 
see, my good friend, that I am dyin’ ^ 
very comfortably.” 

‘‘Still cheerful, Hiram, still cheer- ^ 
ful,” and John was so bowed down' 
by personal grief that he spoke with 
difficulty. 

Hiram pressed John’s hand gently, 
and replied, “Rejoice in the Lord 
alway, alway, alway. I am able to 
^do that, parson, and it seems easy to 
do it, easier than I feared it might be. 
There’s only a short road behind me, 
though I’ve lived more’n sixty year, 
and a part of it lies through darkness ; 
but there’s a long road ahead, and its 
brightness — O parson, I can’t de- 
184 



FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


scribe it. What a good-natured crea- 
ture Death is after all ! We’ve made 
a mistake about him. He isn’t what 
we have thought him, John Jessig. 
He’s gentler and kinder, and more 
considerate. See how smooth he’s 
makin’ my path! I’m goin’ on, and 
on, and on, and when him and me 
stand on the other shore, and he tells 
me to follow the shinin’ Cross and I’ll 
reach the City, I’ll say to him, ‘Dear 
Death, you have done for me more 
than life ever did or could do. I want 
to apologize for some hard thoughts 
I’ve had about you.’ Yes, parson, 
there’s nothin’ half so easy as dyin’ 
when by dyin’ you reach the home 
185 



0 ) 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

where there ain’t no more tears and no ' 
more night.” 

At midnight Hiram awoke after] 
troubled sleep. His breathing was a ^ 
little heavier than usual, and he was ' 
evidently affected by some strong 
emotion. 

‘1 have seen Him!” he whispered. 
‘‘Seen whom, Hiram?” asked John. 
“Him! How wonderful! I fear I 
^ T I ; am almost impatient to have it over ^ 
with. But it can’t last long now. 
A few hours more, only a few hours 
more — and then!” 

“Him?” and John’s cheeks grew 
pale. He too was laboring under a 
great deal of excitement. 

186 



FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


‘‘Yes, the Saviour ! My dear Lord ! 
He stood on the farther bank of a 
narrer stream, but it was deep and 
black, and beckoned to me. He is 
waitin’ for me, parson. Think of it! 
The Lord is there waitin’ for the 
shoemaker! Oh, that face! Those 
robes of light! There wasn’t no 
look of sorrer nor even of pity on 
His face, but an expression of wel- 
come. He seemed to be glad that 
my workin’ days is ended, glad that I 
am to have a new body, glad that 
I am to be young again, glad that I 
am to be at home with Him.” 

“Then, Hiram, you are not sorry 
that heaven is so close at hand? You 



187 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

have no desire to come back, my 
friend?” 

‘'Come back?” and there was a look 
of pain on Hiram’s face at the 
thought. “Come back?” he said fee- 
bly. “Parson, don’t speak of sech a 
thing ! I have seen too much to want 
to stay here any longer. I know now 
, why the sight of heaven is hid from 
us. We couldn’t bear it. No one 
^ T I sees it until he is where I am. It 
w is better so. We should be un willin’ 
I to live unless we was kept in igno- 
rance. The longin’ to go would make 
us restless and unhappy. When one 
sees what I have seen, he can’t stay no 
longer. ‘As the hart pants for the 
188 





FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


water-brooks, so panteth my soul for 
Thee, O God!’ 

“What are them?” he asked a little 
later on. 

“Some wild flowers, Hiram, which 
Jane Green brought you. She gath- 
ered them in the woods half-way up 
the hills.” 

“Ah yes, ah yes. Let me take ’em 
in my hand. It will be my last look 
at the beautiful things of the earth.” 

He held them tremulously for a mo- 
ment. “Poor Jane!” he said. “God 
bless the good woman. She was 
down-hearted, with two sick children, 
and nothing laid by for the rent. It 
was very kind of her to think of me.” 
189 





HIRAM GOLF’S RELIGION 
The morning dawned bright and 
clear. John looked out of the cottage 
window and watched the stars as they 
grew paler and paler, while the sun 
crept up to the hill-tops, as though 
saying its cheery good-morning to the 
awakened villagers. A cool and gen- 
tle breeze broke the surface of the 
lazy Cheroquee into ripples, and a 
gossamer tissue of mist rose from the 
meadows, half frightened at the sud- 
den appearance of that imperious and 
blazing orb. 

This was John’s first experience 
with death. His mother had died 
while he was still in his cradle, but his 
father remained, a hale and hearty 
190 




FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


old man of nearly seventy-jfive. 
Brothers and sisters he had none, and 
when from time to time some relative 
of the family had withdrawn the veil 
and entered the mysterious land, it 
seemed a far-away incident, uncon- 
nected with any severe sense of per- 
sonal loss. But here was a very close 
friend, humble as the world goes, no- 
ble as God reckons, whose hand was 
' on the very door of the tomb, and who 
was about to enter in the serene faith 
that he would be roused from sleep by 
angels and conducted to a radiant 
home far away from the ills of this 
present life. He was mentally im- 
pressed and morally subdued by the 
191 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


strange spectacle. Words failed him, 
but his heart and his eyes were full. 
The Sabbath-day of a soul was dawn- 
ing. He could almost hear the echo 
of that chorus with which the faithful 
are awakened, and yet was startled 
into something like exaltation by the 
thought that Hiram, sure of himself, 
without even a lingering doubt, was 
not merely ready for the summons, 
I but was listening for it with some- 
thing like eagerness. His attitude 
was not that of a man who bends un- 
der a heavy burden, and cries, '‘Thy 
will be done,” but of one who is glad 
to step from darkness into light, from 
the weariness of the body into the rest 
192 





FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


of immortality, and who transfigures 
Death by warmly grasping his hand 
and saying, ''Thank you!” John 
marveled in spite of himself. He had 
expected much, but not quite this. 
"Religion can do many things,” he 
said to himself, as he looked out upon 
the reddening clouds in the east, "but 
to do this! Ah, how wonderful, how 
glorious it is!” 

Martha was sitting by her hus- 
y band’s side. John had insisted on 
watching with him, and the wife had 
stolen a few hours of unwilling and 
hardly restful sleep. Twice she had 
risen during the night and peered 
through the doorway, but John nod- 



193 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

ded his head to assure her that all was 
well, and motioned her back. With 
the first streaks of morning her eyes 
opened wide and refused to close 
again. She could no longer stay 
away from the patient man by whose 
side she had traveled for many, many 
years of life’s strange journey, and so 
sat there, gazing at that wan face, her 
eyes dry, but her heart beating its sad 
requiem. 

Hiram awoke as a ray of sunlight 
fell on his face. 

‘"Marthy,” he whispered, and there 
was a pathetic tenderness in his voice. 

‘^Yes, Hiram.” 

He lifted his hand and pointed up- 



194 



FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 

ward. ‘It’s not fur now, dear wife, 
not fur. I am pretty well tired out, 
but I’m happy and expectin.’ My 
Father’s mansion! They’re openin’ 
the gates! Jest a little while and 
you’ll come too, Marthy. Don’t be 
nervous when you hear ’em call. 
We’ve grown old together, Marthy. 
Blessed years! A little trouble and 
misgivin’ once in a while, but it don’t 
seem nothin’ now. Tell our boy my 
last thoughts was of him. I don’t 
care if he grows rich, say, but ah, if he 
keeps good! Be sure and tell him 
that. I shall see you and him on the 
other side, but you fust, I hope. 
When you come, don’t be in the least- 
195 






HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

wise timid. Some of us will be right 
there to meet you, and I guess the 
Lord’ll let me be among them that 
says good-mornin’ !” 

John saw that the end was rapidly 
approaching, and in low tones, mel- 
lowed by his grief, he repeated the 
Lord’s Prayer, Hiram, with eyes 
closed and hands folded across his 
heart, uniting in the little service. 
The dying shoemaker was as calm as 
one who is about to start on a journey, 
his trunks all packed, hat in hand, 
standing at the doorway and waiting 
for the tramp of the horses’ feet. As 
to fear, he had none. His trium- 
phant faith had sustained him during 
196 




FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


many a hard trial, and it was quite 
sufficient for the present emergency. 

‘'You will soon be with God, my 
dear brother,” said John. 

Hiram turned his eyes wearily on 
the speaker’s face, and still true to his 
old self, and still quaint as ever, re- 
I plied, “Parson, I have been with Him 
I all my life.” 

I “You will soon be in heaven, Hi- 
ram — that is what I mean.” 

“Yes, in heaven!” was the feeble 
response, and a strange and beautiful 
smile irradiated his face. “Yes, in 
heaven! and soon! This pain ain’t 
easy to bear, because I’m growin’ 
weaker, but it can’t last much longer. 
197 



HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


My soul is loosenin’ its chains. I can 
hear ’em as they drop, one by one. 
Then I shall be free, free!” 

Then occurred an incident which 
afterward furnished John with many 
a thoughtful hour. I have pondered 
over his description of it, and it has 
seemed more and more wonderful. 
And yet, why should I think it mar- 
velous? Is not the world full of ex- 
periences which strike us with awe — 
experiences the very remembrance of 
which fills the eyes with tears and the 
heart with wonder? Cannot every 
household which has been visited by 
Death duplicate what happened in 
that lowly cottage on the outskirts of 
198 




^ FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 

'Woodbine? Mothers who have 
, nursed their children until the Lord 
took them to His arms, husbands who 
have watched through the still hours 
by the bedside of the dying wife, will 
tell you that the last hours are some- 
times filled with startling revelations 
which show that the other world and 
this one are so close to each other that 
it is but a single step across the 
boundary. The departing enjoy 
privileges which are not vouchsafed 
to the rest of us. They see sights and 
hear sounds to which other’s eyes are 
blind and other’s ears are deaf. 

While John was still holding Hi- 
ram’s hand and the good wife was 



199 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

tearfully leaning over him, he gave a 
quick, convulsive sob. It was appar- 
ently the last effort of expiring na- 
ture. The perfume of the morning 
crept through the open window, and 
the splendor of the sun filled the room 
and made fantastic figures on the car- 
pet. That sob was not only portent- 
ous, but thrilling. The cheeks of the 
onlookers grew pale, and their hearts 
stood still, for death, when undoing 
the last chains of bondage, produces 
an effect which is almost terrifying. 
One cannot speak, he simply waits. 
The all-conqueror is present, and 
seems to be both impatient and inex- 
orable. 



200 



■ 

I 





FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 

A convulsive sob ! Then came that 
ominous exhalation, like a long-drawn 
sigh, as though the soul in its extrem- 
ity were loth to part with the body in 
which it had lived so long — a sigh of 
pity for those who are left, a sigh of 
relief that all is over, the good-by of 
the spirit as it closes the door of earth 
and enters heaven. 

John and Martha were motionless, 
spellbound. Neither uttered a word 
for a full minute. They looked at 
each other, and each wondered 
whether the other knew that Hiram 
was no longer there. 

At last John hoarsely whispered, 
‘'He has gone! God’s will be done.” 

201 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 


There was no reply, unless, indeed, 
the sob of a breaking heart was a 
reply. 

I But see! The eyelids are moving 
and the lips are trembling. What 
can it mean? He has not gone yet! 
Not quite yet! The sleeper is about 
to wake. Slowly, oh, so slowly, those 
eyelids part, and Hiram gazes about 
the room like one who has been look- 
^ing at a bright light and can hardly 
trust himself. He does not at once 
recall those dear ones at his side, but 
scans their faces like one trying to 
catch the clue of memory and is hard- 
ly able to do so. Then comes a sud- 



202 




FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


den gleam of recognition, and a smile 
rests on his lips. 

“I thought — I — I thought — ” he 
begins, in tones which seem like an 
echo, and then stops, as though the 
effort to speak were too great, or as 
though the soul, having once surren- 
dered its control of the body, finds it 
difficult to regain it. 

“Yes, yes, Hiram,” said John, 
stooping low over the sufferer. i 

“Why, how strange all this is !” he 
murmured. “Is that you, parson? 
And that is my Mar thy? I thought 
I was in heaven! I was among the 
angels! I saw — I saw — and now T 


203 




HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 

am here again. Ah, they’re cornin’ 
once more! Can’t you see ’em? 
How many, many there be ! The 
bells is ringin’. And those voices! 
They are callin’, callin’, callin’. 
Good-by, good — ” 

Then the eyes closed for the last 
time, and all was still. Death had 
completed his task, and borne his 
prize to the other shore. Hiram had 
crossed the border, and would return 
no more. 

And yet the sun shone! Not in 
mockery of human sorrow, I ween, for 
there is neither indifference nor sar- 
casm in nature, but in glad welcome 
to the new-born soul that was taking 



204 



FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


its first few steps in the glorious jour- ] 
ney to the Throne. Yes, the sun - 
shone ! The world must go on ^ 
whether men live or die. And it - 
seemed a symbol of that holy faith 
which lightens the dark places of earth 
and fills with divine radiance even the 
dark valley. 

Two years later I visited Wood- , 
bine, and my old classmate, John ' 
Jessig. The conversation naturally]; 
turned to my own struggles and his 
since our college days, and then he 
told me this story. 

'Tet us make a pilgrimage to his 
grave,” he said. 

There it was, in a grassy corner of 


205 


HIRAM GOLFS RELIGION 



the little churchyard, a bright and 
cheerful spot for one’s body to rest in. 

I read these words on the tomb- 
stone : 

‘'Hiram Golf, shoemaker hy the grace of God'^ 

‘‘He would have it so/’ said John. 
‘Jt was one of his last requests. He 
believed that all work is God’s work.” 

‘"And it was your privilege to min- 
ister to his faith in holy things, 
John.” 

“Yes, but it was also his privilege 
to minister to mine. I gave him lit- 
tle, he gave me much. He was a 
priest without the robes of office, a 
humble laborer in the vineyard, an 
206 


FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN 


honest creature, a true friend. His 
life was incarnate Christianity. His 
death — well, my dear boy, such as he 
never die. The villagers remember 
him with gratitude, and speak of him 
often. He is of the few who enjoy 
two immortalities, one there and one 
here. Would there were more like 
him.” 


THE END 


207 



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